The Night of Betray and Conquer
by California gal
Summary: Jim & Artemus work a ruse to capture a dangerous criminal. It almost works...


****

THE NIGHT OF BETRAY AND CONQUER

To find the mind's construction in the face:

He was a gentleman on whom I built

An absolute trust.

— Shakespeare, _MacBeth, Act 1, Sc. 3, Line 11_

Before entering the hotel's barroom, Jim West paused at the door. Although he saw Artie instantly, he gazed around a moment, as though he had not. A few more seconds were required to locate the other party he sought, the man seated at a table near the entrance to the hotel's adjoining restaurant. The scene was set.

The reflection in the mirror behind the bar gave Artemus Gordon a glimpse as his partner entered the saloon, but he did not move from his position, elbows on the polished mahogany, staring into the glass of amber liquid that had been placed before him, an angry expression on his handsome countenance. This was not going to be easy. However, they had to make it convincing.

Jim made his way slowly through the tables in the barroom, most of them occupied on this busy Friday evening, now keeping his eyes on Artemus's slumped shoulders. He did not relish this assignment. Colonel Richmond had been adamant, and Artemus had been smugly happy that their superior had accepted his idea. Even better as far as Artemus Gordon was concerned, Lily had agreed to cooperate. Artie had been delighted to get the star assignment, and pretty much dared his partner to say he was not up to it. Jim could not, of course. He knew Artemus Gordon could carry it out with aplomb. Yet, he also could not keep from worrying.

Space was available on Artie's left side, and Jim stepped up there, shaking his head toward the balding bartender to indicate he did not want to be served just now. Milt Taylor went back to polishing glasses. "Artie"

"Get out of here," Artemus Gordon growled. "Get away from me before I deck you." The men on either side of the pair stopped whatever they had been doing to look after hearing the snarled words.

"Artie, you have to understand it just happened. We didn't mean"

"Sure. Sure! It just happened. I know you, James West. Any time a beautiful woman is involved. You just couldn't keep away from her, even knowing she was _my_ woman!"

Jim swallowed hard under the rage he saw in his partner's eyes. _Artie is an actor, don't forget that. A damn good actor. _"Artie, talk to Lily. She cares about you. It's just"

"Cares about me! Cares about me, yet she goes into another man's arms. My partner's arms! My _friend's _arms!"

Jim West sighed heavily, turning to face the mirror now and allowing his gaze to briefly brush over the reflection of the man at the table near the door that led to the hotel's restaurant. He was pretty certain that man, and perhaps a good portion of the population of Denver, was aware of the scenario that had unfolded a few hours earlier in the hotel where the agents had been staying. Artemus Gordon had entered his partner's room without knocking, and found his fiancée in Jim West's embrace at least that's what he loudly ranted and raved as he stormed through the lobby, with Lily Fortune and James West at his heels attempting to stop him, trying to explain.

Fortuitously, or so it seemed, a group of reporters from Denver's dailies were in the lobby at that time, awaiting an interview with a royal personage said to be visiting the city incognito. They thus witnessed the imbroglio, recognized the participants, and scribbled eagerly in their notebooks. Then when Colonel Richmond, head of the Secret Service, entered the lobby from the street door, and Artemus Gordon angrily submitted a verbal resignation, condemning not only his partner for his betrayal but also the organization for having such a blackguard on their payroll, the scribes wrote even faster. After Gordon stalked out of the lobby, the newspaper people rushed off to write and file their stories. None of them even noticed that the royal personage never appeared. The story of the brouhaha and breakup of two of the nation's most famous agents had hit the streets of Denver in the late editions.

"Artie, please don't let this come between us. It wasn't something I expected to happen. We were just talking and"

Jim did not finish the sentence as a fist suddenly collided with his mouth. He stumbled back, grasping toward the rim of the bar, but it took the hands of another patron against whom he staggered to keep him on his feet. Artemus Gordon saw the blood spurt from Jim's mouth, and all of his willpower was required to prevent himself from voicing an abject apology. They had agreed to keep it as real as possible. What better way to accomplish that than to shed a little blood?

Jim pulled a handkerchief from inside his blue corduroy jacket and dabbed it at his stinging mouth, seeing the crimson that stained the cloth. "Artie, please understand"

"Get out of here, Mr. West." Artemus used the polite title, but it dripped with bitterness. "Get out of here before I forget entirely that I once looked upon you as a friend. We are not friends anymore, nor partners. You proved that."

Jim opened his mouth, closed it again, keeping his eyes on Artemus's angry face. Then he sighed audibly, shook his head, turning to head toward the exit, never looking back. Artie watched him a long moment, then faced the bar and the mirror, picking up his glass and taking a long swallow to empty the tumbler. Only one bartender, Milt Taylor, another agent deliberately placed here for just this reason, knew that the contents of the glass were cold tea rather than strong whiskey. Artemus quickly waved to Taylor to refill his glass before the second bartender, who was not in on the ruse, poured the real stuff.

"Leave the bottle," Artie growled. Taylor looked at him a moment, shrugged, and placed the still half full bottle of "whiskey" on the counter before moving off.

In the mirror, Artemus could see the man at the table gazing in his direction. At least he was interested. Now to get him to approach. Artie gulped down more of the tea, then turned his back to the bar, hooking his elbows on the edge as though needing some support. He glared toward the patrons at the tables, fiercely enough that a couple of men quickly averted their gazes. Whether they knew who he was or not, they did not want any trouble with him.

__

Uh-oh. This might be too easy! Out of the corner of his eye, Artie saw the man at the table motion to a passing waiter, who leaned down to hear what was being said, then looked directly toward Artie at the bar before nodding his head and accepting a gratuity from the seated man. The waiter made his way to the bar.

"Mr. Gordon, that fellow back there would like to talk to you."

"So? Is that my problem?" Artie slurred his words slightly.

The waiter cleared his throat nervously. "Well, he said to tell you that he sympathizes with what happened to you, and he wants to help you get back at them."

"You don't say?" Now Artie stared directly at the seated man, who smiled and lifted his glass.

Artemus knew he had to leave the bottle of tea on the bar. He could not risk the discovery of the fake drink, in case his newfound friend decided to sample it. So he filled his glass then put the bottle down. After digging into his pocket for a crumpled bill to place alongside the bottle, he handed another coin to the helpful waiter, then, carrying his full glass, slowly meandered through the tables. He was careful to sway a little, but not too much. He did not want to appear so inebriated as to be unable to comprehend what was going to be imparted to him.

Gaining the table he looked down at the man. He knew this man's identity already. What he did not know, and hoped to learn, was how deep his involvement was. "Who are you and what do you want?" Artie demanded.

"Sit down, Mr. Gordon. My name is Albert Lakewood. I have a proposition for you." Lakewood was probably in his forties, his dark hair slicked back with too much oil–scented oil that reeked sickeningly all around him. His clothing were what would be described as "dapper," a green plaid suit, dark green necktie fastened with a stickpin bearing a large diamond. He also wore a diamond ring. This was not the man they wanted, but the hope was he would lead them to the real quarry.

Artie pulled out a chair, seemed to nearly lose his balance as he plopped into it. "What do you want? You want to gory details? I'll give them to you! My partner, my friend" He paused, momentarily pressing his hand over his eyes as though overcome with emotion. "I never thought he would stoop so low. I thought I could trust him and her!"

Lakewood smiled in sympathy. "I know, I know, Mr. Gordon. I heard all about it and it's reprehensible. I am sure you want vengeance. I can show you a way."

Artie squinted at him. "How can a newspaper writer"

A raised hand stopped his words. "I'm not a newspaperman, Mr. Gordon. But I can help you gain a sweet revenge against West and Miss Fortune, along with the whole of the Secret Service. That's what you want, isn't it? To rub their noses in the mud?"

"Or blood," Artie chuckled, then hiccuped. "'Scuse me. Did you see what I did to that bastard West? He always claimed he was my pal, my buddy my brother! First chance he gets, he stabs me in the back. You know what?" He leaned forward conspiratorially. "You know what? He was jealous. I had the beautiful woman, not him. He could never keep his hands off the pretty ones, but I got to Lily first. Not only that, _I_ was looking too good. _I_ was the one doing all the work, solving all the cases. Jim West, he's a hog. He wants all the glory, and he got jealous when I started to get the credit and attention, so he decided to take Lily away from me."

"A lot of people already knew that you were the real brains of the partnership. West struts around, gets the ladies and the glory, while you do all the grub work."

"That's right, that's right. The grub work. Y'know? He didn't like it when I got engaged to Lily. He kept trying to move in on her. Y'know? I can see it now. Y'know? He was after her right from the start." Artemus picked up his glass and drank deeply.

"I believe that, Mr. Gordon." Lakewood watched as Artie emptied his glass, and as soon as it was placed back on the table, he picked up his own bottle and filled it.

__

Now I've got to be careful. This is the real stuff. Drink enough, but not too much. Got to keep a clear head. "So, whattya got to say to me?"

"I told you. I have a friend who wants to help you get even. What do you think is the best way to get revenge on West and the Secret Service?"

Artie pretended to ruminate on this for a moment, taking a swallow of the excellent whiskey. _Goes down smooth. Take care, Artemus._ "Well, I gotta show them up. I gotta show them I'm better, smarter than they are!"

Lakewood's smile was large, revealing a gold tooth at one side. "Then my friend is the perfect man to help you do that, Mr. Gordon. Want to meet him?"

WWWWWW

__

So far, so good. Jim West crouched in the darkness of the alley across the street from the front entrance of the hotel and watched his partner leaving with Lakewood. This was the part that he hated most. He could not take the chance of being spotted, thus would be unable to follow Artie from here. They had arranged several ways to keep in touch, but that would be later. For now, Artemus was completely on his own. Other than Lakewood, they had no clue as to whom they were dealing with. The man leaning against a lamppost smoking a fat cigar might be one of them; so could the hooker eyeing that man speculatively from a dozen feet away.

The two men walked down the street about half a block, with Artie continuing to behave as though slightly intoxicated, swaying a bit, talking loudly. A closed carriage with a smartly dressed driver waited on the corner, and they got into it. All Jim West could do was watch it move off down the street before it turned left at the first intersection.

Over the last three months, two agents had been murdered here in Denver. The first man. Harold Barkley, had sent a brief report to Colonel Richmond stating that he had been approached and offered a substantial bribe to turn traitor against the service and the United States. He was going to play along, he said. A couple of days after that report was received, he was found shot to death.

The second man, Elton Hirsch, had been sent to Denver to investigate the incident. Within two weeks of his arrival, he was dead as well. His reports had indicated he had a line on the man who might be behind the slaying of Barkley. He mentioned Lakewood, but he did not have the name of the big boss yet. His death was the warning that something extremely serious was occurring.

Jeremy Pike had been the next agent to hit Denver. Like Artemus, Jeremy had a knack for disguise, and rather than announce his identity and purpose, as Hirsch had done, Jeremy had used several roles in order to acquire information. What he learned caused Richmond to decide to bring in his two top men, West and Gordon.

Those two arrived in Denver openly last week. Artemus had been delighted to receive the assignment, because Lily Fortune's acting troupe was already in Denver. He told Richmond and Jim later that something Lily said actually gave him the idea of how to portray a public rift between himself and his partner, thus setting him up to be contacted by the mysterious person they sought. Lily had simply mentioned that in a sense it was too bad everyone knew that he and Jim were such close friends, because separating one of them from the other and from the service to thus be accessible to the plotters was unlikely to be accepted.

Artemus had already told her that Colonel Richmond had vetoed the idea of one of them portraying a turncoat, which the colonel stated would not be feasible because of the publicity received during and after the previous incident using that ploy. He then asked her if she would participate in setting him up to be contacted. When she first hesitated, Artemus misread her thoughts, and assured her that she would be in no danger.

His heart had nearly burst with love when she grasped his hands to say quietly, "No, Artemus. I'm not worried about me. I just don't know if I want to be the one to put you into a possibly perilous situation. You know I could not bear it." His next concern had been whether Jim would mind being portrayed as a cad. He should have known better. His partner had laughed heartily when Artie worriedly mentioned the word.

The reports published in the evening papers stated that Gordon had publicly demanded that West be dismissed from the service. When that ultimatum was denied, Gordon had himself resigned. Artemus Gordon had been free with his livid quotes about his partner and the service, but "no comment" had been the response from other agency members, including Richmond and West. Miss Fortune had gone into seclusion in her hotel.

__

It's a good thing I know that Artie was acting in the hotel bar. He scared me. Jim West touched his still tender mouth as he left his post and headed toward the rear of the alley. Though swollen and discolored, the bleeding had stopped. They had agreed beforehand that Artie would strike him, and in order to be believed, it had to be a real blow. In San Francisco, Jim had slugged Artemus, but he had pulled the punch, knocking his partner down, but not severely hurting him. The newspaper boys who witnessed that scenario did not need as much convincing as they raced off to file their stories.

Jim had tried his best to dissuade Richmond from this plan–out of Artie's hearing of course. He did not want his partner to think he did not have confidence in him. That was not the situation at all. Artemus had proved too many times that he was more than capable of handling dangerous situations. But a good many of those situations had occurred while he was in disguise, under another persona–and often in a circumstance where he needed to help Jim in some manner, frequently to save his life.

Jim had left his horse waiting in the rear of the buildings. He had not wanted to risk that Lakewood had someone watching the area around the front of the hotel. They knew that the man they wanted–the unknown man–was extremely clever. He had trapped and killed two very capable and experienced agents already.

__

Artie has saved my life so many times. What if I can't save his? What if I fail him, trying to do what he always did for me, backing him up?

Jim West had confidence in his own abilities. He had confidence in those of his partner. But this situation seemed backward. It was not a case where Artie went ahead, in disguise, to size up the situation, the method they often used. Nor would Artie be standing by, ready to move in, using some guise that would unbalance the thinking of the culprits they were trying to catch.

The two agents had learned that Colonel Richmond had initiated attempts to come up with a plan soon after Barkley's death, and had warned Hirsch that he had received information that "something" was in the works. If West and Gordon had not been tied up in another case at the time, he would have assigned them instead of Hirsch. After Hirsch's death, Richmond had sent Pike in, and what Jeremy learned confirmed what was already known, and garnered further information–but still too little to act.

The information Richmond had received earlier indicated some major crime was being planned, one that apparently required–or at least would be facilitated by–the presence of an agent, or ex-agent, who possessed particular, valuable information. Though they did not yet know who was plotting the scheme, Richmond knew he had to try to get someone into the organization. He had been considering Jeremy Pike because Pike was somewhat lesser known than West and Gordon, before Artemus came up with his idea.

__

"Has to be the mint."

Jim smiled as he mounted the satin black horse. All three men had said those words almost simultaneously. The Denver mint was the primary government installation here, or at least the one that would yield a worthwhile fortune to some opportunistic and clever thief. Like Jim, Artie knew the mint inside and out. They had helped set up security measures, had visited often. Unsuccessful robbery attempts had been tried before. Who was this man who thought he knew how, with the assistance of an insider, to successfully accomplish this feat?

WWWWWW

"Mr. Gordon, this is indeed a great honor for me. My name is Alaric Compton. I'm very grateful you agreed to talk to me. What has happened to you is shameful. Shameful!"

Artemus accepted the hand of the imposing man standing before him. Like Lakewood, he would stand out in a crowd, but in a different manner. Compton had the appearance of a sophisticated man, his clothing perfectly tailored, his shirt snowy white at the collar and cuff. Instead of diamonds, however, his tie clasp was a muted silver, with the design of a crown etched in the middle of a simple band, matching his cufflinks, which were silver squares etched with the same crown. He was a broad-shouldered man, but not overly tall, not more than two or three inches taller than Artemus. As well as sophistication, he had the appearance of strength, both in his physical build and his mien. A very handsome man, probably fifty or so, with steel gray hair and almost matching eyes.

"My pleasure." Artie looked around the well-appointed living room. The moon was not very high yet, so he had not been able to see much of the outside of the house in the darkness. Nonetheless, he had gained an impression that it was not very large, and not very formidable. The inside was completely the opposite. _Loveless would admire this man's tastes. But who is he? Why have we not heard of him before?_

"Please sit down. Would you like some coffee?"

Artemus deliberately scowled and stared at the sideboard where crystal carafes contained amber liquids. Then he muttered, "If that's all you have."

Compton chuckled. "For now, Mr. Gordon. For now." He waved a hand, and Artemus almost jumped as a man seemed to materialize from nowhere to head for the door that Artie knew led to the hall through which he had entered with Lakewood, who had now vanished.

He quickly realized that the man in butler's attire had been standing back against the very dark drapes behind Compton, out of the sphere of the illumination of the single lamp in the room, which was on the table next to the chair Compton settled into. That the butler was also swarthy–perhaps Spanish or Portuguese–had helped camouflage him as well.

Artie settled into a plush chair, and rubbed his hand over his face. "It's been a long day."

"I imagine you are very weary, Mr. Gordon. No man should have to endure such betrayal, especially not one of your sterling reputation. I understand your superior took West's side. I can only imagine that the green-eyed god jealousy was involved on Mr. West's part."

"A green-eyed agent," Artie snarled. "Damn" He cut off his words, clenching his teeth together as the servant returned with a silver carafe on a tray along with a pair of bone china cups, once again displaying the design of a crown. Odd that like Compton's personal adornment, the emblem was done in silver, rather than gold. He accepted the cup, lifted it to take a sip, but paused it close to his mouth, shifting his gaze. "Are you royalty?"

Compton smiled. "In blood, but unacknowledged. I'll explain in greater detail later. But for now, I merely want you to know that I am on your side. I know the feeling of being betrayed, although in my case, a woman was not involved. I have seen Miss Fortune on the stage, and she is indeed a lovely woman. Not unexpected that other men would pursue her. I would imagine that after your long association with Mr. West, it must be galling that he would do something so traitorous."

"I never knew," Artie grumbled. "He fooled me. All this time, he was climbing the ranks by standing on my shoulders, and I never knew. Never suspected." He shook his head sadly, then rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, feigning grief. He dropped his hand abruptly, allowing fury to twist his features. "Then he went after my fiancée!"

"That is indeed the ultimate insult, Mr. Gordon, especially from a man you considered your friend. I've never met Mr. West, but I've certainly heard about him. I often wondered how much of his reputation was truly earned. He seemed like an admirable fellow before now."

"I thought he was my friend," Artemus moaned, putting his cup and saucer on the small lacquered table next to his chair. Again he rubbed his eyes. "I'm so blasted tired I can hardly think straight."

"Of course you are. Forgive me, Mr. Gordon. I'll summon Raymond to escort you to your room."

Artie looked up. "My room?"

"Of course. You can't go back to that hotel. We'll fetch your belongings tomorrow. You are my guest, and an honored one."

"Well well, I sure appreciate that, mister mister" Artie chuckled in an embarrassed manner. "Now I've forgotten your name."

"Compton. Alaric Compton. But don't worry. We are going to be great friends. You won't forget again."

WWWWWW

"Well, he's in the lion's den," Jim scowled.

Jeremy Pike smothered the smile that threatened. Colonel Richmond had related the long hours of debate he had held with his top agent regarding the assignment of roles. Both knew as well as Jim did that Artemus was up to the task. They also knew the close friendship between the pair, and that this was a reversal of roles for them. Artie could adapt more easily than Jim.

"As long as he plays along," Jeremy said, reaching up to scratch under the scraggly beard pasted to his chin, "things will be fine."

"If only we knew who we're dealing with. You haven't heard?" Jim paused. He knew that Pike would have revealed that information if he had it.

Jeremy shook his head patiently. "All I know is that this Lakewood is a go-between. He's the one who contacted Hal Barkley for certain. And he may have been in touch with Elton, though I have been unable to confirm that."

Jim West heaved a noisy sigh and threw himself down on the sofa in the parlor car, sprawling with his head against one armrest. "I hate just waiting."

"I heard Artemus say that a few times."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jim grimaced. "But Artie is the patient one. Not me. Twenty-four hours. It'll be at least that long before Artie can arrange to contact one of us."

"And maybe longer. We have no idea where he is, Jim. Only the suspicion that he's still in Denver. Remember Loveless's little hideout"

"I know." Jim pulled himself to a sitting position. "Denver is getting to be a big city. Not easy to keep track of people and places. At least the mint is on guard."

Now Jeremy lowered himself into a chair at the table. "If the mint is the target. I could not come up with any information to confirm that aspect. Just vague rumors that something big is planned, that that was why this mystery man wanted a government agent on his payroll."

"Now he's got the best. He must know of Artie's connection with the mint security setup."

"And he probably feels he's got what he needs," Jeremy added. "Which means that the plans–whatever they are–will go forward."

"Yeah, and all we have to do is sit quietly and wait to hear from Artie. Blast it!"

WWWWWW

"Artemus! Artemus! Wake up!"

Artemus Gordon awakened but did not open his eyes, his whole being frozen with the sound of the familiar voice close to his ear. Then a hand touched his shoulder, and he rolled over to stare into the moonlit face of Jim West.

"What the devil are you doing here?"

"The colonel got impatient, Artemus. He wants to know what's going on?"

"What do you mean, the colonel? I'm off the force, remember? And you'd better get out of here before I start yelling!"

Surprise was evident on the intruder's face. "Artemus, what's the matter with you. I need to find out if you've been successful. Did you infiltrate?"

Artie sat up now, his hand slipping under his pillow. He had been a little surprised that Compton did not disarm him, and he had placed the pistol under his head so he would be aware if anyone attempted to grab it later. Lifting his hand, he pointed the gun. "Get out of here, West. I could shoot you and claim I thought you were a burglar. Justifiable homicide. And I'd do it with pleasure right now." He kept his voice low and cold, anger and hatred in his eyes.

The bedroom door opened, and the glare of the lamp Alaric Compton held illuminated the scene fully. Compton wore a satiny dressing gown now in dark blue with the silver crown emblazoned on a breast pocket. "Calm down, Mr. Gordon," he said smoothly, smiling. "I don't want you harming an important cog in our plans."

Artie threw his blankets back, slipping off the bed, attired in the nightshirt Compton had loaned him. He still held the gun and looked from one man to the other. "What are you talking about? Jim West is in on this? Then maybe I don't want to be!"

Compton laughed now. "I wondered whether Janus could still pull it off. Obviously he can, to fool West's partner."

Artemus's eyes widened as he stared at the man attired in the blue jacket with the leather lapels. "Janus! He's in prison."

"I was," that man said, his voice completely different now. "Mr. Compton was kind enough to see to my release. I'm pleased to be able to help him take down the man who put me in prison. Or one of them at least. Glad to be on your side, Mr. Gordon." He held out his hand.

Artie hesitated, then accepted the hand briefly, still appearing stunned. "I don't get it."

"I'm sorry to have attempted to trick you, Mr. Gordon," Compton said, putting his lamp on a bureau. "But I had to be certain. I can assure you that you passed with flying colors."

"Well, Janus is lucky I didn't shoot first, as the saying goes. I'm not sure I'm going to like having to look at that face too often!"

"Just tell yourself that because of Janus's face, we are all going to become very, very wealthy men."

Artemus looked from one to the other again. "You're going to try to pass him off as Jim West?"

"With the knowledge of West's behavior and activities that you will be able to impart, as well as what Janus learned while in the employ of the esteemed Dr. Loveless, I have no doubt of his success."

Artie shook his head. "You're forgetting that West is here in Denver, and his presence is well known."

"True. But I have plans to take care of that. Don't worry, Mr. Gordon, when the time comes, you will be there to witness James West's disgrace. You will even participate. But that's in the future. I apologize again for interrupting your sleep. I hope you rest well. We'll see you at breakfast. Janus?"

Compton took the lamp again, and the two men departed. Artemus Gordon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. _That was too damn close! Thank God for the moonlight that allowed me to notice the lack of a bruise or cut on Janus's mouth or I might have easily said something I would surely regret!_

He sat down on the bed, all notions of returning to sleep currently vanished from his mind. This was one thing they had not counted on, had not remotely imagined. Janus! Loveless had done his usual superior job in altering the face of a man whose build and coloring, even the eyes, closely resembled James West. He had come very near to fooling Artemus on that occasion, had Janus not made the telling slip with a query concerning dear old "Aunt Maude," combined with the telegraph message from Washington asking about West's whereabouts.

So Compton had a plan to substitute Janus for Jim. How? With the purported feud between the two agents, not to mention his own resignation, they could not be seen working together. Very likely Janus indeed could fool people not closely acquainted with Jim. The remark Compton made about his plans for Jim, that Artemus could participate in his "disgrace," was worrisome. Compton obviously planned to have Jim out of the way so as not to interfere in whatever scheme he had set up involving the doppelganger.

__

And I can't get word to Jim. Unlikely that Compton will allow me to roam free, even though I passed this "test." Not for awhile. I won't be able to get to any of our plants to leave a message. I will need to convince Compton that I need to be seen in public or suspicions might be aroused. Even if it is only to continue my "carousing." Taylor will be at the hotel bar for the duration of the plan

Artie lay down, cradling the pistol against his chest, his eyes wide open as he stared at the moonlit ceiling. This room was as finely furnished as the parlor downstairs, and he had seen other excellent accouterments on the way up the wide polished staircase. Compton either had money, or he had friends who did.

__

Who in the devil is he, and why have we not heard of him before? Quite probably, the two murdered agents had been lured into some kind of trap by the elegant man. They would not have had any information, or reason to suspect him, either.

WWWWWW

"Mr. West?"

Jim West lifted his head from the newspaper he had been pretending to read as he sat at the restaurant table, and gazed at the well-dressed, neatly bearded man who paused beside it. He recognized Jeremy Pike, of course, but pretended not to. "Can I do something for you, sir?"

Jeremy sat down opposite, and extended a card over. "How did you get here so fast?" he asked in a low voice, smiling ingratiatingly as befit his current role as a theater entrepreneur.

Jim gazed at the card for a long moment. "What do you mean?" he replied in an equally quiet but pleasant tone.

"I just left you down on Hawk Street playing cards. You were still there when I left."

Jim got to his feet, pulling some cash out of an inside coat pocket to drop on the table, speaking in a normal though somewhat icy tone. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't think I can help you. I don't see the current situation as fitting for the stage." As he turned away, he lowered his voice. "The Wanderer, quick."

Jim West reached the railroad yards and the train long before Pike, but was not surprised. Jeremy would not compromise his identity by following a direct route. Jim spent the time at the telegraph key, getting to his feet as the door to the car opened. "Jerry, what did you mean when you said you saw me on Hawk Street playing cards?"

Pike threw his hat on the desk. "Just that. I was in the saloon called the Red Queen talking to the gals about joining my, ah, show, when I spotted _you_ at a table in the rear."

"Playing cards? Gambling is against the rules."

"Exactly. I figured you were onto something and had joined the game to get more information. You never looked my way, but that wasn't surprising either."

"Right. I wouldn't want to suggest that I knew you. But it wasn't me."

"Yeah. I get that idea. Janus?"

"Just about has to be. I just sent some inquiries. He was sentenced to life at a maximum security prison. The warden knows the importance of keeping him out of circulation, as it wasn't possible to change his appearance again. A doctor said that eventually time would cause some of the changes Loveless made in Janus's appearance to alter on their own. But obviously not enough time has passed."

"But how would he get here? Gotta be someone else, Jim. But I have to say I don't know if anyone but Loveless could do a job like that."

Before Jim could respond the telegraph key began to clatter. Both men listened silently, their countenances becoming grim. When the key ceased, Jim tapped off an acknowledgement, then looked at Pike. "Well."

"How the devil could he have escaped?"

"You heard the message. Investigation continuing.' Has to be an inside job."

Jeremy scowled. "I hate hearing that. But it does pretty much confirm that Janus is here. Funny that he'd be out in public like that."

"It is," Jim mused. "I'd say that it might be a setup, that we were supposed to become aware of him, except they'd have no reason to believe that I, or any agent, would be on Hawk Street." He reached into an inside pocket for his cigar case, offering one to Jeremy, who shook his head.

"Is it possible," Pike wondered aloud, "that he was playing poker to frame you, knowing no." He shook his head.

"Why do you say no? That seems plausible."

"He wasn't dressed like you, Jim. His attire was similar to what Lakewood wears–a cross between a riverboat gambler and flash city slicker."

"I see what you mean. If someone wanted him to be mistaken for me"

"James, none of this makes any sense."

Jim finally lit his cigar, but did it absently, pitching the match into a nearby ashtray, then merely holding the smoke in his hand, his gaze on some point passed Jeremy's shoulder. Jeremy waited. Finally Jim spoke. "This is something that Artie is much better at than I am, figuring out riddles. And damn it, we have to wait to hear from Artie. It's been forty-eight hours!"

"We knew it might be awhile. After all, he has to gain whoever's confidence."

"Yeah." Jim West did not voice his fears. Perhaps if he did not speak them aloud, Artie would remain safe. "I hate waiting." How many times had he said that?

"You should have tried harder to win your debate with the colonel."

Jim recognized that Jeremy was twitting him, trying to ease his impatience. "Yeah. The funny thing is, usually I can. With Artie's backing."

"Yep. But this time Artemus was on Richmond's side."

Jim stubbed out the unwanted cigar in the ashtray. "We'd better get back into town. I want to check some of the contact points just in case Artie was able to get a message through."

"And I'll head back to the Red Queen and see if the other Mr. West is still playing cards there. If he is, I'll try to strike up an acquaintance. If not, I'll see what I can learn about him. See you tonight."

WWWWWW

"Mr. Compton, I don't want to seem ungrateful for your hospitality, but I'm thinking I should be out and about a bit."

Alaric Compton lowered his wineglass and gazed at Artemus across the table with its fine linen and exquisite place settings, not to mention the perfectly prepared roast beef they had just supped on. "You mentioned that before, Mr. Gordon. I'm really not sure that's necessary. I can easily make it appear as though you have left the city. I have contacts around the country who can arrange for you to be present' in any city you desire–Chicago, New York, San Francisco West and his cohort in the Secret Service will believe you have departed Denver."

Artemus smiled tightly. "I'm afraid you don't know James West as well as I do, Mr. Compton. He doesn't follow, nor believe gossip. And you forget, the agency has offices–and agents–in all those cities. They would confirm, or refute, my presence."

"Hmm. You might be right." Compton's face revealed some satisfaction, as he apparently realized that he was already reaping the benefits of having a former agent on his side, for the inside knowledge that former agent could impart.

"My experience with the service tells me that if I have vanished from the streets at this point, not to mention my hotel, an investigation will soon be instigated. Despite I resigned–and perhaps because of it–a search will soon be underway."

"Yes. Yes! What is your suggestion?"

"Simply that I take up my previous pursuits. I'll be honest, Mr. Compton, I have never been much of a carouser. I'm afraid my anger upon coming to the realization of how my so-called partner and my sweetheart betrayed me caused me overdo it that evening. But for me to go into hiding, so to speak, might call too much attention my way. Do you understand?"

"Yes, in a convoluted manner, I do. You should know that West is still in Denver as is Miss Fortune's troupe. Your colonel has gone to Cheyenne, but is expected back. I believe the plans are that he will then travel east in your–in Mr. West's train."

"I see. That makes sense." _How the devil did you find out so much? The colonel's movements are not usually public knowledge. _"Mr. Compton, when will you be able to fill me in on your scheme?"

"Soon. I have a few more arrangements to make. Then it will be time to make use of your expertise. Soon we will all live the lives of kings."

Artie cocked his head. "Is that the symbolism of the crown?"

"In a sense," Compton replied, signaling to the ever present Raymond who stepped forward to refill his wine glass. Artie shook his head when the butler looked his way. "You see, my father was in line for the throne, and was cheated out of his heritage."

Artemus blinked. "The throne of England?"

"Of course. I'm afraid the details are somewhat sordid, so I won't go into them for now. Suffice it to say that I intend to amass a fortune great enough to set up my own kingdom, and cause the Queen to regret that she refuses to acknowledge me."

"I see. Have you selected a site for this kingdom?" Artemus knew he must not laugh, nor display any iota of doubt.

"South America, of course. Money goes a long way there."

Artie could not help but glance around at the luxurious settings. "I rather had the impression that you were well off already."

"Oh, I have money. Over the years I developed a taste for fine living, thanks partially to our mutual acquaintance, Miguelito Loveless. He's the one who pointed me toward Janus."

Seeing the sour expression on Compton's face as he mentioned the doppelganger's name, Artie asked, "I'm surprised Janus isn't here at dinner." Somehow he was _not_ surprised at the mention of the doctor's name.

"Mr. Janus did a foolish thing, Mr. Gordon. I'm afraid he's being punished."

"Oh. I see." Though intensely curious, Artemus felt it best to drop the subject for now. In the two days he had been residing in Compton's home, he had developed what he believed was a good relationship with his host, and was gradually gaining his trust. He did not want to push too hard now, especially if Compton was on the verge of agreeing that it was time for Artemus Gordon to reappear in Denver.

The same applied to waiting to learn the plans for the robbery that was going to allow Compton to establish his South American kingdom and reclaim the British throne. Acquiring that information was Artemus Gordon's primary purpose in going through this dangerous ruse. However, patience was required. He wondered how Jim West was doing in that vein. Jim was not always the most patient of men.

WWWWWW

Jim West paid for the newspaper and turned away from the newspaper stand, fighting the urge to curse aloud in his frustration. He had made the rounds. Taylor at the hotel bar had not seen Artemus Gordon since the night of the altercation. The man selling roasted peanuts on the corner a block away had not encountered the agent since the day they all met in Omaha to receive instructions before coming on to Denver to set up the deception. The story was the same with the young lady in the tobacconist, and the young agent manning the newsstand. Artemus had not made contact with any of them.

__

We need some information, Artie! Where are you? He knew of several reasons why Artemus had not appeared, primarily because he was still gaining the trust of his new "employer." Jim was sure that Artie would talk his way out of the situation, whatever it was. Question was, when? Until they received word from Artie, they were in the dark.

Not even the information received regarding the escape of the man known as Janus was of much use yet. Someone–and it seemed that even the parties involved were not aware of that person's identity–had bribed an assistant warden and a pair of guards. They had slipped Janus out of the prison, and worked a ruse that caused his absence not to be noticed until Jim West's telegram was received, alerting the warden to check on that particular prisoner.

Knowing that Janus was involved was chilling. That meant that, somehow, James West's reputation was going to be part of the plan. That also meant, Jim was aware, that he needed to be extra alert. Loveless had kidnapped him in order to create Janus. His plan had been to substitute Janus for the real agent. Chances were pretty good that whoever had the same idea, possibly including the part that had the real agent in his grave.

He looked up and down the street, seeing nothing untoward. His black horse was tethered in front of the tobacconist's shop. Every person he noticed appeared to be going about normal business. Above the street, windows gleamed in the sun. Was there now someone behind one of those windows watching him, waiting for the opportunity to seize him? He knew he would not be attacked and killed openly. That would not work if the intention was to place Janus in his stead. His death would need to be kept hidden, at least for the time being.

__

Artie, tell us what's going on!

WWWWWW

Artemus learned the following morning what Janus had done to incur Compton's wrath: he had taken an unauthorized foray into the saloons of Denver. The ex-convict sullenly claimed that after all the months he had spent in solitary confinement, he was entitled to some fun. "I agree with him, Mr. Gordon," Compton blithely stated. "However, he risked our entire venture had he been recognized,' so to speak. Fortunately, that did not happen. Mr. Janus's tastes do not equal those of the real James West. The types of public houses he frequents are not those that Mr. West would be likely to enter except in the line of duty. Mr. Janus realizes now that the only reason he is still alive is due to his value to our scheme."

The only other scrap of information he was able to garner was overhearing Compton speaking to his servant, telling Raymond that when he shopped he should not purchase food for more than a week's meals. Artie could only believe that meant that Compton planned to carry out the crime he was planning within that amount of time. Otherwise, why instruct the servant?

The good news was that Compton apparently arrived at the decision to trust his newest partner in that crime, saying that he believed Mr. Gordon was correct, that it would be wise for him to reappear in Denver. "I'll leave it to your clever mind to devise an excuse for disappearing for three days," Compton chuckled. "I'll also trust your discretion that you will not over-imbibe and become too talkative."

"No, indeed," Artie assured him. "I've seen it happen too many times–and to the benefit of the service–when a careless fellow allowed demon rum to loosen his tongue. I'm an actor, Mr. Compton, as you undoubtedly are aware. I can portray a celebrant deep in his cups without actually sinking that low." Compton laughed, and did not appear to recognize the irony of the remark.

WWWWWW

"Jim!" Jeremy called out excitedly as he entered the parlor car of the Wanderer. "A break!"

Jim looked up from the rifle he had been cleaning. "Janus show up again?"

"Better. Artemus was back in the hotel bar, and he slipped Taylor a note with his money when he paid." Jeremy Pike pulled a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his coat. His disguise today was that of a staid, white-bearded merchant. "Appears to be in a private code."

Jim got to his feet to accept the paper, thin onionskin type, tightly folded. He opened it carefully. "Yeah. It's one Artie devised. Give me a minute."

He sat down at the desk, taking a pad of paper and pencil as he studied the slip of paper. Jeremy waited, watching, and noticing how a deep frown appeared on Jim's face. "Did I bring bad news after all?"

Jim glanced up, putting the pencil down. "Not exactly. Here's what it says: Alaric Compton. Caution. Janus is here. Spy?'"

"That's all? Who's Alaric Compton?"

The frown remained on Jim's countenance as he shook his head. "I don't know. I feel as though I should know the name, but I don't know why. You've never heard it?"

"Nope. Not to my recollection."

"Well, get on the key and make some inquiries."

Pike sat down in the chair Jim rose to vacate. "At least Artemus's note confirms our suspicions about Janus. They're going to have to get you out of the way for him to step in."

"Yeah. I just can't think of why that name sounds familiar, blast it."

Jeremy began to tap the key. "No one you've encountered in a job?"

"That's just it. I don't think so, but I know I've heard it." Jim raked his fingers through his hair as he absently listened to the codes Pike was transmitting, requesting information on Alaric Compton. _Where did I hear that name? _He had the sense that remembering was very important. He was positive Compton had not been associated with any case they worked on. Not directly anyway. Alaric Compton was not a common name. Not likely someone else bore it.

"At least," Jim said then with some relief, "Artie is alive, and apparently going to be allowed to be out and about. That must mean he's gained a semblance of trust from this Compton. And that also means he should be able to get more information to us."

"Carefully," Jeremy agreed, lifting his hand from the telegraph key and leaning back. "He's got to be very careful about it. And what does he mean by Spy?'?"

"I'd say he has reason to believe someone in or near the department is on this Compton's payroll."

Pike frowned deeply. "I hate to think that. It would have to be someone here in Denver, and I can't believe Taylor or any of the others are on the take."

Jim considered this a moment, then shook his head. "Can't be anyone in the department. Otherwise, Compton would be aware of Artie's ruse."

"Very true. But it's someone passing along enough information to make Artemus believe he or she is spying."

"Seems so. Maybe Artie will be able to provide more information later."

"Well, as I said before, he'd better be careful."

"He will. Disguised or no, Artie knows how to carry out a charade. But we need to find out who this Compton is."

"It'll take a little time," Jeremy reminded him. "Remember, it's a lot later in Washington than it is here and it's almost midnight."

"Yeah. You're right. Won't be anyone to do the digging until morning. Jeremy, in the morning, go to the mint and make sure they are on high alert."

"I kind of thought I should stick close to you. You're going to be a target, Jim."

"I doubt if anything's going to happen in broad daylight. But I'll be watchful in any case. Thanks for your concern, Jeremy, but I can take care of myself."

Jeremy Pike knew better than to argue. He also knew that no one was more capable of looking after his own safety than James West. But they were so much in the dark right now. All they really knew was that apparently this Alaric Compton was planning a crime and needed the services of a couple of government agents–one publicly on the outs with the service, the other to be replaced by a duplicate. The second part of that equation was the troubling portion: the real James West would need to be taken out of circulation before he could be replaced with the duplicate.

"Is it possible," Jeremy mused, "that this spy is in the mint? Colonel Richmond spent a lot of time there before leaving town. His plans could have become known."

Jim nodded appreciatively. "Nose around, Jer. If that is the case, it has to be someone who has access to some information that alerted Artie. They don't know about the ruse there but that person would know of extra security that being set up."

WWWWWW

Artemus attempted to get more information from Compton the morning after his "night on the town." He thanked his new employer profusely for allowing him freedom. "I'm sure word will get to the department and West that I haven't crawled into a hole somewhere, as he would prefer I do. The one satisfaction of all this is that I know my former colleagues will be observing James West in a different manner now, after what he did. I had friends. too, you know. Good friends."

"I know you did, Mr. Gordon," Compton beamed. "When your difficulties became known, one of those friends recommended you to me."

Artie showed surprise, and it was genuine. "A friend? Who?"

Compton chuckled. "You'll learn in time."

Now Artie put down his coffee cup–again emblazoned with the silver crown–and leaned over the breakfast table. "How much time? The longer you wait, the greater the danger that someone in authority will get wind of your activities."

"I'm aware of that. Now that you are here, and Janus is behaving himself, the next step can be taken."

Artemus straightened. "To kidnap James West."

"Exactly. He has to be out of circulation to enable Janus to replace him."

"You don't plan to kill him?"

"Oh no! That's the beauty of it. I'm sorry I didn't reveal this to you earlier, for I know it will please you, but once this is over, James West's reputation will be sullied forever. In fact, he might even end up in prison."

"Ah. Now I like the sound of that!" Artemus grinned widely and hoped the knot in his stomach was not revealed in his eyes. "Perfect revenge. How do you plan to do that?"

Compton raised a hand. "You'll need a little more patience, Mr. Gordon. The plans are all but complete. I'm waiting for a bit of information that will solidify them."

"I see." Artemus picked up his coffee cup again and drank most of the cooling liquid, giving himself a few moments to think. As soon as he placed the cup in the saucer, Raymond was there, refilling it from the silver carafe. "Mr. Compton, I'm sure I don't need to remind you that taking West is not going to be easy. Whatever else he is–rat and back-stabber–he is superb in combat, as many men have found out."

"Combat won't be necessary. I have that part well planned. I only need the proper moment to institute it. Mr. West is being watched closely."

Again Artie's surprise was real. "So you have other men"

"Of course. Lakewood is in charge of them. They report to him, he reports to me. I would say without hesitation that Lakewood is second only to Raymond here in matters of my trust. Both have it implicitly. Both know that they will be rewarded down the line."

Artie glanced at the swarthy servant. He had not heard the man speak, and wondered if he could. But he could definitely hear. Just now his dark eyes gleamed under the praise of his employer. Raymond appeared to be the only help in the house, yet he also seemed to be constantly within call. How did he manage alone?

"This omelet is one of the best I've ever had," he said, after putting the last bite in his mouth. "I presume the praise is due Raymond."

"Raymond indeed is the cook," Compton replied. "My general factotum. He has taken care of me for a long, long while."

"If the meals I have enjoyed here are any indication, you have been well fed."

Compton chuckled. "To be sure. Raymond is completely loyal. Wish we could say the same for women, eh? Take your fiancée, for instance. I know she responded to the handsome Mr. West's overtures."

Now Artemus scowled deeply. "He's a scoundrel where women are concerned. Love em and leave em. And he never cares who he hurts!"

"I understand perfectly. Then again, there's another way to look at it. If she was so weak where he was concerned, perhaps you are well rid of her."

__

Lily? Never! "You might be right. I wish I could place all the blame on West's shoulders, but I'm not certain that was the case."

"No, I imagine not. A painful lesson." Compton put his napkin aside and got to his feet. "If you are finished, I think we should find Janus and begin our lessons."

Artie understood. Janus had been at the table earlier, completed his meal hastily and departed. Artemus deduced that the doppelganger was still feeling the effects of Compton's chastisement. _Strange, though, to sit at the table with a man who looked so much like Jim!_ But while Janus had been present, Compton stated that he wanted Artemus to tell Janus everything he could about Jim West, all his habits and preferences, dislikes and desires. Artie was aware he would have to be careful. Loveless had researched–and knew–James West thoroughly, and had imparted that knowledge to Janus.

__

I can't contradict anything Janus already knows is true about Jim. But I've got to find something that will reveal him as a fake, just in case Compton's plan to kidnap Jim goes through. I don't like the sound of Compton's machinations where Jim is concerned, especially now knowing that other henchmen are out there, shadowing Jim. This "spy," whoever it is, might be complicit as well, and if it is someone Jim trusts

WWWWWW

The telegraph key was clattering for attention shortly after Jim finished shaving and dressing. He poured himself a cup of coffee–wishing it had been prepared by his partner rather than himself; Artemus made a better brew–and carried it to the desk before sitting down and tapping out an acknowledgement. He picked up the pencil and began to write as he listened to the dots and dashes.

The code used was one he knew well, so he was able to decipher it without pulling out the book. He read the translated message twice, and shook his head. _That doesn't help one bit. I still can't remember why I keep thinking the name should mean something to me._

He had arranged to meet Jeremy Pike at midmorning in a vacant building on the northwest outskirts of the city. That gave him time to go into Denver and get breakfast. Again, while he could cook, Jim much preferred Artemus's artistry in the galley, whether it be simply frying eggs or preparing a five-course dinner.

Jim was surprised, and pleased, when he realized he would not have to eat alone. Upon entering McKenzie's, the restaurant he often frequented, the first person he saw was Evelyn Bushell, the secretary to the director of the mint, seated at a table alone. She motioned him over and invited him to join her.

"Is the mint closed today?" he asked after placing his order with the waiter who hustled over to pour coffee.

Evelyn smiled. She was a lovely woman, a widow in her late twenties with shiny dark hair and luminous brown eyes. Jim had had the pleasure of escorting her to a social event twice in the past. Evelyn was not in the habit of saying goodnight at the door of her home, so the evenings had been extended. "Once in a while, the peons are allowed to take some time off, James. I have some shopping to do, and my boss was kind enough to say he would not need my services today."

"That's right, I remember you said the other day that you had a wedding to attend. I presume that means shopping for something special to wear."

"Exactly. A favorite cousin is marrying, and I want to look my best to impress her intended's family. Seems they think he is marrying beneath them." She made a face.

"You'll awe them," Jim smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. Worse than his own, he realized. Good thing he did not feel the need of more just now.

"So, how are you getting along on your own?" Evelyn inquired.

"I'm managing. It's strange. I'll have a new partner appointed as soon as Colonel Richmond joins us and we travel east. I don't like the idea but I'm afraid well, all good things end."

"These things happen." She peered at him. "You and Miss Fortune?"

Jim shrugged, made a rueful face. "Nothing really between us. As I tried to explain to Artemus, something just happened in that moment. Had he not entered the room at that moment, he would have never known." Jim admired Lily Fortune very much, as an actress, but more so as a woman. Had he met her first and she had been totally unconnected to Artemus, likely he would have at least asked her to dinner, perhaps more, despite she was a few years older than himself. But Lily was Artemus's woman. He knew he never saw Artie happier than when he was in Lily's presence. Jim West would never intrude.

"I'm surprised he was not more reasonable. To resign his position! That was shocking to me."

Jim shook his head. "The strain of the job, perhaps. Who knows?" He paused as a plate of eggs, potatoes, and ham was placed before him, along with some fluffy biscuits. At least this place knew how to make biscuits!

"Who knows indeed," Evelyn smiled sadly. "I wish oh!" She reached for the fringed reticule that had apparently slipped off her lap onto the floor and skittered a few feet away.

"I'll get it," Jim volunteered gallantly, putting his napkin aside to stand up and step over to pick it up.

"I should not have carried this particular handbag with this skirt," Evelyn sighed, thanking him with a dazzling smile. "They are both slippery. I'll put it on the table so it doesn't happen again."

Evelyn chatted some more about her cousin's wedding as they ate. After a few minutes she waved to the waiter and asked him to freshen their coffee. "Nothing worse than lukewarm coffee, is there, Jim?" She picked up her cup, her eyes smiling at him over the rim. "Aren't you drinking yours?"

"I shouldn't have ordered it," he replied. "I had plenty on the train this morning."

"But they make such good coffee here. You really should have some."

Jim shook his head, hesitating to openly dispute her sense of taste. "No, I'm fine." He pulled out his pocket watch. "I'm due at a meeting in a short while. Thank you for your company, Evelyn. Allow me." He put some money on the table.

She seemed a bit nonplussed. "Well yes. Thank you, Jim. Must you rush? I was looking forward to talking to you longer over coffee."

"You may have the day off," he smiled, "but I'm a working man. I'll probably see you at the mint in a few days." With a nod he picked up his hat and departed.

As planned, Pike was waiting for him at dilapidated building they had selected for the daytime rendezvous. One reason it was a good place for a secret meeting was that it could be approached from several directions, and one of those directions was through a heavily wooded patch. Jim used those woods for cover, and left the black horse tied among them.

Jeremy opened the back door, carefully supporting it on its single remaining hinge. "I was starting to get concerned, Jim."

"Sorry. I ran into a friend at breakfast and sat talking longer than I intended. Everything okay at the mint?"

"Yes. They are doubling the guards and taking extra precautions with visitors." Jeremy moved a backless, wobbly chair and sat down. "Any answer about Compton?"

"Yeah." Jim straddled an equally shaky bench. "Compton is originally from Connecticut. He was a doctor, from a pretty good family, had a successful and respected practice. About ten years ago, a serious carriage accident resulted in a near fatal head injury. He recovered, but something happened to his brain. Seems he started having delusions, one of which was that he is related to the English royal family, that he has been somehow cheated out of his rightful place on the throne!"

"Good grief!"

"I know. Apparently Compton's mental facilities are fine otherwise. Supposedly he's quite brilliant. He's accumulated a hefty fortune with no hint of wrongdoing, though suspicions abound. Seems he has no other source for the wealth. Money had disappeared from institutions when he has been in the vicinity, but authorities have never been able to connect him to the thefts. He lives high on the hog wherever he settles, and usually sports silver jewelry etched with a crown."

"Sounds interesting, that's for sure. Maybe we've finally got him cornered."

"Maybe. Providing Artie is successful in leading him to continue his plan, whatever it is."

"And don't forget, you, by way of Janus, seem to be involved in that plan as well. I wonder how Compton knew about Janus?"

"That's it!" Jim jumped to his feet, snapping his fingers.

"What's it?"

"Loveless."

"Loveless?"

Jim West sat down again, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "You heard about the time Loveless pretended to have been killed, posing as his own uncle, in order to lure me into his sanitarium where he planned to perform not very nice brain surgery?"

"Yes. Artemus loves to tell how he fooled Loveless and the guards with his disguise as a French physician."

"I was anesthetized, and kept drifting in and out of consciousness while Loveless's men strapped me to a gurney. I could hear him talking to someone, then another person came into the room, who Loveless introduced to his men. His name was Dr. Alaric Compton. He was to be one of the witnesses to the surgery. Loveless called him an old friend. Funny how clearly I remember that now."

"I'll be darned," Jeremy murmured. "That means that Loveless likely told him about Janus."

"Miguelito would not have been able to resist bragging about such an artistic success. Who knows, maybe he helped break Janus out of the penitentiary."

"What if Loveless is involved with this current activity?"

Jim straightened, shaking his head firmly. "No chance. His ego would never allow someone like Compton to take the credit. He would have made himself known to Artemus by now and Artie would have informed us."

"Well what next?"

Jim West grimaced. Again, this was the part he had never been good at. "We wait for Artie's next message and stay alert."

WWWWWW

Artemus Gordon was pleased with himself. He was pretty certain he had planted a false idea in Janus's head about how Jim West would behave in a particular situation. He hoped he would be able to create at least one more fabrication, just in case the first one did not arise in Janus's pose as the government agent. But the morning was cut short when Raymond brought a note to Compton, one which caused a deep scowl on the older man's handsome face when he read it.

Janus asked the question Artie was trying to figure out how to pose without arousing suspicion. "Something wrong?" Janus's query elicited nothing more than an annoyed glance from Compton.

"Seems our first attempt to pick up Mr. West did not go according to plan. No one's fault, it seems. Just that he did not cooperate and could not be forced without arousing suspicion."

Artie decided to take a flyer, on the chance that it might yield more information to pass on. "West is a creature of habit where certain things are concerned, like his morning coffee on the train. He always demanded I have it waiting for him, especially after we lost our servant." _Besides, Jim makes lousy coffee._

Compton nodded absently. "That's exactly what happened. He did not drink his coffee while away from the train. Well, we have a backup plan."

"Anything I can help with?" Artemus asked, disguising the satisfaction he was feeling with the success of his comment.

"Maybe. Just maybe. Especially if the next attempt is unsuccessful. We've got to have James West under wraps before we can proceed. That's an imperative."

Compton disbanded the meeting. Artemus followed him from the study where they had been seated into the fine parlor. "Is it all right if I go into town this afternoon, Mr. Compton? I do think it helped for me to be seen last night. One fellow I had been playing cards with previously stated that some interest had been aroused when I failed to reappear after my encounter with West."

"Yes, yes, go ahead. Just remember the rules."

Artie made a wry face. "Yeah, I know. I'll just pretend to have fun."

As he turned to leave the room, he saw Janus standing in the hallway. Janus had overheard, and he did not like it one bit that he himself was confined to the house while Gordon was allowed freedom. However, their situations were different. Janus needed to understand that. _If he does understand, he still doesn't like it!_

Artemus went to his room and closed the door, placing a chair in front of it. He did not lock the door, knowing that would appear too suspicious if someone tried to open it. However, he could make an excuse for the chair, and it would give him a few precious seconds of warning. He retrieved the pad of onionskin paper from the lining of the valise that had been brought from the hotel, and quickly wrote a message on it, a little longer than the previous one. He knew a bit more now.

Folding the paper into a thin strip, Artemus secreted it in a small slit in his coat sleeve, then donned that coat. He went back downstairs, found the dining room unoccupied He was gazing at a landscape of the English countryside, featuring a manor house, when Compton and Janus entered a few minutes later.

"That's my ancestral home," Compton spoke.

"Indeed! Have you ever visited?"

"Not yet. Not yet. When I am ruler of my own kingdom, I will return to England and be on equal terms with my dear cousin Victoria. But that's well into the future. For now, I'm sure we have a delightful midday meal ready for us."

Artemus left the Compton home soon after the completion of the meal, going to the small stable behind the house to retrieve his horse. A dour man whom Artie suspected was half Indian tended the animals there, but did not appear to have any other duties. Unsure if this man was complicit in the planned crime, Artie made sure not to do anything to arouse his suspicions.

He rode to the downtown area of Denver, becoming aware of the horseman following him. Jim was being watched, but so was he. That seemed to indicate that Compton was not as confident of his newest recruit as he indicated. Last night Artemus had noticed a couple of men in the bar, but had been unsure whether they were there watching him or simply having an evening out themselves. They had exited the hotel before he did, but he now realized they had likely hidden somewhere to watch him.

What it meant was that he was going to have to be extra cautious so as not to cause anything to be reported back to Compton. He had mentioned to Compton that he needed some cigars, so going to the tobacconist ought not to rouse any questions. Dismounting in front of that shop, he tied the horse off and entered.

The young woman behind the counter was the one he hoped to see. Janet Lewis was the daughter of a retired operative and sometimes took posts like this, acting as a liaison. She was a pleasant-faced, slightly plump young woman who wore silver-rimmed glasses. She was also very intelligent.

"Good day, sir," she greeted. "What can I do for you?" No hint that she recognized him.

"I'm looking for some good Cuban cigars," he replied, glancing casually toward the front window. The man who had been following him had dismounted across the street and was now gazing into the window of the store there, a window that gave him a perfect reflection of the front of the tobacco shop. Another man was now positioned leaning against the post on the tobacconist's porch, and though his back was to the shop, the front door was standing open, so he could likely hear a great deal of what would be said. Artie recognized the second man as one of the pair who had been in the bar last night.

"Of course, sir," Janet replied. "We have a fine selection. Let me show you." She turned her back to the door and reached under the counter. As she did, her voice lowered to nearly a whisper, lips barely moving. "In a moment, Mr. Pike is going to enter and raise a to-do. Mr. West is behind the curtain over the door there. Step back against it and you can talk to him." Louder, as she turned with two boxes of cigars in hand, "These are our very best. Fifty cents each."

At that precise instant, stomping footsteps sounded on the porch outside, and a man charged in, a grizzled old man with stringy, yellow-gray hair and beard, wild eyebrows of a similar color, and skin the color of leather. His attire labeled him as a prospector, with the high boots and canvas trousers.

"You, missy!" he roared, elbowing Artemus Gordon out of the way. "You got my special tobaccy?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gaines, but it did not arrive on this morning's coach."

"Mr. Gaines" launched into a furious tirade about inefficient stores and worse clerks and what was he going to do without his "tobaccy." Artie stepped back to press up against the heavy dark curtains that hung over the door to the rear of the shop. He crossed his arm over his midriff, cupped one hand, then rested his elbow on it, so that the free hand covered the lower part of his face, as though thoroughly bemused.

"Jim?"

"Right here, Artie," the slightly muffled voice was close to his ear. "Anything new?"

"Only that it seems the job is planned for this week. No details yet. Did you have coffee this morning?"

A slight pause. "What?"

"Did you have coffee?"

"Yes, on the train. Why?"

"Nowhere else?"

"I had breakfast at McKenzie's, ordered coffee, but didn't drink it. Foul tasting this morning. Why?"

"Were you alone?"

"No. Evelyn Bushell was there and I joined her. What's this about?"

"Evelyn! So she's the spy!"

"What the devil are you talking about?"

Tersely Artemus told his partner about the exchange he had had with Compton this morning. He heard Jim's long exhalation of a surprised breath.

"Evelyn! She dropped her handbag I thought it flew rather far from the table for having simply slipped off her lap. I picked it up for her. Afterwards she kept urging me to finish my coffee."

"I don't know what was in it, Jim, but obviously some sort of drug that would have made it easy for Compton's men to carry you off. Be careful, partner. He has to have you in hand before the job can happen."

Jeremy was still ranting and raving at the patient clerk. Artie saw the man outside in the porch glance inside once or twice. This could not go on much longer.

"But you still don't have anything firm to give me."

"No. Nothing. See what you can find out about a Raymond Delgado. He's Compton's man,' and is extremely loyal."

"Got it. Artie, Loveless knows Compton. I remember hearing Compton's name at the sanitarium."

"Yeah, he mentioned knowing the little doctor. But I don't think Loveless is involved here, unless he helped spring Janus. I don't know when I'll be able to get you more information, Jim. Compton is pretty closed mouthed."

"Watch yourself, Artie. Seems Compton had a head injury some years back that scrambled his brains. He thinks he's royalty."

"I know. He plans to set up a kingdom in South America and then go rub elbows with Victoria. Everything is emblazoned with a silver crown in honor of his royal blood.' And he's quite serious about it. I'd better go." The man on the porch had looked around again, a longer stare this time, and the one across the street now had his back to the window, staring openly toward the tobacconist's shop.

Artemus dropped his hand and stepped toward the counter. "Sir, I think you have abused this lady's time and patience long enough!"

The old prospector turned and glared at him. "What's it to you, sonny?"

"Only that I was here ahead of you, and my business is not yet complete."

"Mr. Gaines," Janet spoke patiently, "I promise, I will send word as soon as your special order arrives."

"Yeah, yeah, you said that before. I'll be back. I'll be back!" Jeremy turned and stalked out of the store.

Artemus completed his purchase and stepped out onto the porch, pausing to casually light one of the cigars. The man there glanced his way, and Artie smiled ruefully. "Cantankerous old cuss. I think he would have harangued the clerk all day if I hadn't interfered."

The man stared at him a moment, and Artemus knew he was wondering whether his cover had been blown. Artie nodded to him, stepped off the porch and mounted his horse. What would Compton would have to say when he learned the men tailing Jim West had lost him? Artie knew that Jim would never have entered the tobacco store, via front or rear, while being watched. He had eluded his shadow.

WWWWWW

Jim West repeated Artemus's story to Jeremy Pike while Pike removed the makeup that had turned him into the grizzled prospector. "I never would have guessed Evelyn Bushell," he said with some sadness. "However, I do know that while her husband left her a tidy sum, she took a position at the mint to support herself because she ran through her inheritance rather rapidly."

Pike glanced up from the mirror on the table before him. "Money has been the motive for any number of traitorous deeds, Jim."

"I know, Jer. Compton is obviously playing it very close to the vest, not revealing his plans until the last moment."

"The fact that Artemus is being followed indicates Compton is a very cagey fellow, too."

"I know. That worries me. What if he's playing Artie, making him think he's one of the gang, fully accepted?"

Pike did not smile. "It's a possibility. I'm sure Artemus is aware of that, Jim. He's undoubtedly as alert to the shadows following him as you have been."

Jim grimaced. "At least they haven't caught onto you yet."

Jeremy chuckled. "Well, I don't think they've seen the real me, and they haven't seen the same man twice. Artemus's store of makeup, prosthetics, and clothes is coming in handy!" He sobered then. "What are you going to do about Evelyn?"

"Nothing at the moment. Colonel Richmond will be back in Denver tomorrow, and I'll let him handle it. He can talk to her superiors at the mint and will know which ones to speak to."

"Surely there's not more than her!"

"I hope not. Meanwhile, if I encounter her again, I'll behave normally and be on my guard."

"Be extra alert anyway, Jim. They want you out of circulation so that Janus can portray you during the robbery, that's obvious."

"Yeah. Then they'll let me go to face the rap."

Pike looked at his fellow agent, saw the pensiveness on West's face. "What are you thinking?"

Jim shook his head, making a wry expression. "I'm not sure. I just hate all this waiting around."

Jeremy Pike got to his feet, alarm on his own face. "Jim, you can't"

"Can't what, Jerry?" Jim asked with an innocent countenance.

WWWWWW

Alaric Compton was furious. Artemus could discern that as he sat across the table from his host. He also discerned that this time the anger was not directed totally toward Janus, but that Albert Lakewood, who had joined them for a meal for the first time, was receiving at least some of it. Compton held his tongue, however, until after the dessert was served, when he finally spoke in a low, taut tone.

"How did it happen, Albert?"

The dapper man sighed, lowering his spoonful of silken flan. "I don't know, sir. I just don't know. They'd had West covered like a blanket all this time, and he suddenly just slips away for about two hours."

Artemus chuckled, drawing a sharp look from Compton. "I don't find it amusing, Mr. Gordon."

"I'm sorry, sir. I also apologize for not giving you fair warning. I don't think there's a man alive who can keep a tail on James West if he becomes aware he's being followed. Whatever else he is, West is a consummate agent. He has the proverbial eyes in the back of his head. It's obvious that somehow he noticed the men shadowing him, no matter how clever they have been."

Compton continued to stare at him a long moment, then seemed to relax, picking up his cup of coffee. "You may be right. I know of West's reputation. A friend' of yours told me quite a bit about him."

"I presume that friend was Dr. Miguelito Loveless."

"He was very helpful," Compton smiled, with a glance toward Janus. Then he sobered. "Time is growing short, and I am of the opinion now that we need to use less finesse where Mr. West is concerned. I had hoped to draw him in without too much fuss, and was sure that the men on duty would find such a circumstance even after he eluded the drugged coffee this morning."

Lakewood spoke up. "You want to just nab him?"

"Seems that's the only thing left at this point, especially because West is likely to be even more wary now that he knows he's being watched. I'm quite aware of West's prowess as a fighter, so make certain the numbers are adequate, Albert. It would be best to attempt to take him in some less populated spot, so that the incident will not be noted. Warn the men again to try not to bruise him too much. We don't want him to be able to use them as anything resembling proof' when he claims he was abducted."

"Excuse me, Mr. Compton," Gordon said, "I hope you don't mind me asking this. You mentioned an attempt to drug West. I presume that was in a public place. How did you intend to carry that out?"

"The narcotic involved would have caused him to be woozy and perhaps even nauseous. Another patron in the restaurant would have stepped in, claiming to be a doctor, leading West to a waiting carriage. He would have been in no condition to resist. A perfect scheme except he decided not to drink his coffee in the restaurant this morning."

__

Thank God. Artemus merely shook his head, smiling ironically. "Best laid plans."

"True enough. But that was merely a first attempt, one I hoped would work. I want West securely out of the way so that Janus can step in when Richmond returns tomorrow. There's still a chance, if Mr. West cooperates tonight."

Artie's brain raced. How could he get word to Jim? Sure, Jim was on alert, but if Compton sent a half dozen men after him, he might be in trouble. Under the current plan, Jeremy would be keeping his distance, even in disguise, visiting the Wanderer only with great care. The only solace was that Compton did not plan to kill Jim. If he was captured, that would give Artemus a chance to help him escape.

WWWWWW

Jim West had two reasons to visit Lily Fortune at her hotel. One was that they had decided as part of the plan that doing so might help convince whoever was behind the plot–and they now knew his name was Alaric Compton–that the "affair" between Jim and his partner's fiancée had some basis. The other was that he had promised to keep Lily apprised of what was happening, particularly where Artemus was concerned. He had sent her a note, but felt that an in-person call would help ease her worries.

The hour was late because he waited until she returned from the theater after her evening performance. Jim was in the lobby when she entered with several fellow actors. Seeing him she hurried over to take his arm. He saw how her companions looked after her; obviously they knew–or thought they knew–the story of her infidelity. Jim was aware that Artemus had made friends with these actors. They had accepted him warmly, not only because of Lily, but because he was a former member of their profession.

"Let's take the stairs," Lily breathed, as her friends headed for the elevator. "Anything new?"

"I spoke with Artemus today," Jim said in a low voice as they ascended the carpeted stairs. He placed his hand over hers on his arm, knowing that the people waiting for the elevator car were watching them. "He's fine. All is going well."

Neither spoke again until the entered Lily's room on the third floor. She turned to him, brown eyes filled with anxiety. "Is he really all right?"

"As of a little after midday he was," Jim replied soberly. "I have no reason to believe anything has happened since then."

Lily undid the ribbons that secured her velvet cloak, let it fall to a silken mound on the floor as she turned and sat down on the bed. "I shouldn't have agreed to this, Jim. I won't be able to live with myself if anything happens to him."

Jim quickly sat beside her, his arm over her shoulder. "Lily, Artie has been an agent of one sort or another for a dozen years. He knows how to take care of himself. Irregardless, remember that the whole idea was Artemus's. If you had not agreed to this particular ploy, he would have come up with another. He's clever that way, you know."

She laughed softly, using her fingers to quickly dab at her eyes. "I'm being silly, Jim."

"No, you're a woman in love. Artemus is a lucky man, and he will come back to you. I promise."

He left her then, with a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, aware she was weary after her long night at the theater, compounded by her worry for Artemus. He thought about his rashly given promise as he descended the stairs. _I've got to keep that promise, not only for Lily's sake, but for Artemus, and myself. Artie has come to my rescue too many times. I can't let him down._

Striding across the lobby with barely a glance at the clerk at the desk, who was staring goggle-eyed at him, doubtless thinking of the juicy gossip he was going to share with whatever newspaper reporter offered him the most money, Jim stepped out onto the hotel porch. He had walked here from his own hotel, a block and a half away.

He paused to take a quick look around. At this late hour, few people were out and about. Those who were on the streets quite possibly had just come from attending the performance that Lily just completed, and were looking for a late supper, or perhaps just a couple of drinks. He saw several couples of various ages entering sundry establishments along the thoroughfare. But none of the men he had identified as following him earlier.

__

Maybe they figured I'd be staying longer with Lily and went somewhere to seek some refreshments themselves.

Walking swiftly down the wooden walkway, Jim did not relax his vigilance. Compton needed to grab him in order to substitute Janus in his place. Tonight would be an excellent opportunity for Compton's men, if they were not downing whiskey in one of the nearby taverns. According to Artie, Compton had been pretty angry when the attempt to capture him in the restaurant failed. Undoubtedly he would be even more furious if his men missed this opportunity.

WWWWWW

The moment Artemus stepped into the dining room he knew something had occurred. Something that, in Compton's opinion, had been very good. Alaric Compton was at his usual place at the table, a plate of food before him, and a huge smile on his face as he looked up.

"Good morning, Mr. Gordon. Beautiful day, isn't it?"

Artie glanced toward the window. The same rain that had been falling outside his upstairs room was visible here. It apparently started in the pre-dawn hours. "For ducks, I suppose." He sat down and Raymond hurried to fill his coffee cup.

"We had a successful night, Mr. Gordon," Compton beamed. "And a new guest in the cellar room."

He was glad he had picked up his cup and it was partially covering his face when this announcement was made. Artie was unsure how well he disguised his surprise and dismay. The action of taking a swallow of the hot, dark brew gave him a moment to compose himself. He lowered the cup.

"I am assuming you mean West."

"I do indeed. He was taken late last night after, I'm sorry to add, he paid a visit to Miss Fortune in her hotel. Perhaps that episode left him a little, shall we say, lightheaded? Off-guard? In any case, our men seized him as he was walking back to his hotel. He put up a struggle of course, but they were able to overpower him, tie him up and bring him here." Compton's grin became even wider, if that was possible. "And now, we move forward with all haste. I've called a meeting for late this morning. Did you complete those sketches of the mint's floor plan?"

"They are upstairs in my room," Artemus replied in a calm tone, much more calmly than he felt. _Jim was captured? And so easily? That doesn't seem possible. Jim wouldn't allow himself to lose focus like that. Late at night, on presumably a nearly deserted street _"I have to make a few corrections, but they'll be ready for you."

"Excellent. Excellent. Just think, Mr. Gordon. In just a few days we will be on a ship sailing out of San Francisco, heading for our new kingdom in South America."

"Very exciting," Artie murmured as Raymond placed a plate of eggs, sausage and potatoes in front of him. He had no appetite now, and he was sure anything he put in his mouth would be dry as sawdust. However, he knew had had to put on a show. Compton expected him to be delighted with Jim West's capture.

Compton appeared to notice nothing amiss as he prattled on about his grand scheme to overthrow or buy a South American country, establish himself as its king, and then sail for England to claim his due as a successor to the throne. Artemus had wondered previously where these delusions of grandeur had come from. Had Compton read books about England's kings and queens as a boy, and they surfaced as a fantasy brought on by his head injury?

As they finished the meal, Lakewood arrived, beaming, for he too had heard the good news. "I'd like to see him," he said.

"Of course. I was just going to ask Mr. Gordon if he wanted an opportunity to gloat over his back-stabbing friend." Compton looked at Artemus.

"I'd love to," Artie replied, rising from his chair and putting his napkin aside. "I want to make sure he understands that life as he knows it is over for him."

He followed Compton, with Lakewood trailing, into the small kitchen where Raymond was at the sink washing dishes. Compton went to a sturdy door at one side, producing a ring with several keys, one of which he used on the door. He then led the way down a narrow stairway, picking up a lantern off a hook as he descended.

The cellar was small, as befitted the small house, with dirt floor and only one wooden wall. A new wooden wall, Artie decided in the dimness. Until Compton lit the lantern, the only light came through a small dirty window high up on one wall–the wall that faced the street. Jim West was sitting against that wooden wall, his wrists captured in manacles, the chains of which were attached to sturdy iron rings embedded in the wood on either side of him. He could probably reach far enough to feed himself, but the chains would prevent him from even standing up. A narrow, rough cloth was tied across his mouth.

"We thought it wise to keep him silent," Compton stated. "If he should cry out for help just as someone walked or rode by–well, the gag is necessary."

"Good idea," Artie concurred, stepping up to gaze down at the prisoner. He could not see any bruises on Jim's face resulting from his capture. Remembering the trick played on him his first night here, Artemus found himself compelled to look for the bruise from the blow he himself had struck. He could see a small portion at the edge of the cloth. This was indeed Jim West.

"Well, Mr. West," Artemus Gordon growled fiercely, "how do you like it? How does it feel to know the good life is ending for you? Oh, you'll be freed eventually, but you'll be the object of scorn and derision. No one will believe your pitiful story. Don't think for one minute Lily Fortune will stand by you. Once your fame is diminished, she'll have nothing more to do with you."

"It's amazing how closely Janus resembles him," Compton remarked. "I must remember to write Miguelito to compliment him on his work. And also to inform him of the success of our plan. He will be overjoyed to learn that the great James West is being sent to prison. And who knows? Depending on how things go at the mint, perhaps to hang. We hope to avoid violence, but there might be some foolish guard whose actions necessitate stopping him."

Artie watched his partner closely as they spoke. Jim's green eyes were cool, emotionless. Not surprising when one knew Jim West. He held himself in check very well. He would not show fear or even anger, nothing to give his opponents satisfaction. _But blast it, Jim, how did you allow yourself to be taken? I don't understand it!_

Artemus knew he needed to contact Jeremy Pike to apprise that agent of what had occurred. Jeremy might be aware that Jim was missing–then again, he might not. Artemus abruptly realized that Janus was not present. Was he already carrying out his impersonation? Suppose he was at the Wanderer and an unsuspecting Pike began to discuss the ruse perpetrated to get Artemus Gordon into Compton's gang and good graces!

His fears were lessened, though not completely vanquished, when they left the prisoner and returned upstairs to find Janus at the table digging into his breakfast. He was clad in his usual garb, not in Jim West's familiar working attire of blue corduroy jacket and matching trousers. He also looked up in some confusion as the three men entered.

"You slept in, Janus," Compton chided, "and missed all the fun."

"What are you talking about?" Janus spoke in his normal voice.

"James West is ours."

Janus's eyes widened. "Really? Where is he?"

"In the cellar, safe and sound," Compton beamed. "So prepare yourself to go into your act. You'll need to meet Richmond at the mint later today, after we have a meeting to discuss plans just before noon. Are you ready?"

"Of course I am," Janus responded, confidently, getting to his feet. "I want to see West. He bested me once. I want to let him know that I have the last hurrah."

Compton's smile was like that of a proud father as he handed over the ring containing the key to the cellar. "Make sure he understands what has befallen him. He has been king' too long. Let him know that the king is dead. And long live the king!" He jerked his thumb at himself and laughed. "I would join you, just to watch him squirm, but I have work to do. Mr. Gordon? Is something wrong?"

Artemus had assumed an expression of consternation. Now he shook his head in obvious embarrassment. "Mr. Compton, I'm afraid I lied. I just realized that I neglected to sketch an important area of the mint, the rear area. It's important because it will need to be sealed off to prevent guards from stealing in that way to ambush us. I forgot because it's an area I have seldom entered. However, I do know the layout."

Compton smiled a patient smile. "That's all right. Just go make the drawing. We have time before the meeting."

"Well, that's a problem because I used the last of the paper last night." Artemus knew no other paper of the size needed was available in the house; he had taken the last from Compton's desk. "If you don't mind, I think I'd better go into town and buy another pad at the stationer's. I shouldn't be more than an hour, and it'll only take minutes to then do the drawing. I am very sorry. I feel like an idiot!"

Compton was in too good a mood to be upset. He waved a hand. "Go along. Janus, pay your visit to our honored guest downstairs. I want you to leave for the mint immediately after the meeting to initiate our plans. Mrs. Bushell was unsure exactly what time the colonel will arrive, but you should be there waiting for him."

Artemus hurried out to the stable to get his horse, then hastened into town. He paid a cursory visit to the stationers, buying a pad of the necessary paper, then stopped to buy a morning newspaper, urging young Ned Malone to get in contact with Jeremy Pike at once to tell him that Jim West was now in Compton's hands.

"He's not in any real danger," Artie said in a low voice, behaving as though he was commenting on an article he was reading. "Compton wants to make him the patsy for the mint heist. But make sure Pike and Colonel Richmond–and all others of our local contacts–are aware that the Jim West' who meets them today is actually Janus. They mustn't give anything away."

He then went to the tobacconist to give the same message to Janet Lewis. He trusted Malone, but nothing wrong with spreading the word. The peanut vendor was not on duty yet, and Taylor would not be at the bar this early. Artie could not risk going to the small hotel where he knew that agent was staying. Instead, he mounted the chestnut and rode back to Compton's. There he went directly to his room and redrew the sketch he had previously made of the rear of the mint so that it would be on the new paper, which was slightly different from what Compton had supplied.

The plans he had drawn were mostly accurate. He had done that because he was unsure whether Compton or any of his minions, other than Evelyn Bushell, were familiar with the structure. Evelyn obviously would not be at the meeting this morning, but it was possible she had already given Compton some inside information about the layout. Artemus had, however, made some slight alterations in the locations of certain doors. If these alterations were noticed, he would claim he knew the mint better than anyone else involved, and thus was more likely to be correct.

The hope had been that the agency would be able to nip Compton's plan in the bud, that the robbery would never come close to taking place. Now, with Jim West in Compton's hands, Artie was unsure what was going to happen. Colonel Richmond, Jeremy Pike, and others would be aware that they were not dealing with Jim West, but no contingency plans had been laid out for such an event, primarily because no one had known that the doppelganger would be involved until after the ruse was initiated.

Laying a trap at the mint might still be possible, but Jim's safety would be at risk if Compton left someone at the house while the raid took place. Artemus realized he himself had a huge task ahead of him. He had to learn Compton's plans, and somehow relay them to the agency without incurring any suspicion. He was certain that Compton would not be so amenable to himself or any of his other underlings going downtown once the plans were revealed.

__

First things first. You learn what the plans are, Artemus, and then you figure out how to get the information to Richmond or Pike. In the meanwhile, you also figure out a way to help Jim West!

Artemus gathered up his papers and descended the stairs. Hearing voices in the dining room, he entered there to find Compton, Lakewood, and Janus, along with half a dozen other men, including ones Artie recognized as having followed him from time to time.

"Ah, here's Mr. Gordon with the layout of the target, gentlemen. This won't take long. I have always found that keeping the plan simple means that less can go wrong. Mr. Gordon, if you will please lay out your drawings here on the table."

Artemus did so, reflecting that Compton's comment about previous plans was as close as anything he had heard resembling an admission that Compton had been involved–had planned–other similar robberies.

"Very good, very good," Compton praised. "You are an artist, Mr. Gordon. Janus, your participation is especially important, so pay close attention. It is vital that James West be seen and recognized as part of this undertaking."

"I'm all eyes and ears," Janus replied, in James West's voice.

That elicited an approving nod from Compton. "Excellent. You should stay in character now that you are garbed as West. In fact, we should all start addressing you as West, so that you become accustomed to the appellation."

Artemus Gordon's reaction to the voice was slightly different. He experienced a chill along his spine with the realization of how closely Janus could imitate Jim's voice. Had he not been able to warn his associates with the agency

For a long while afterwards, Artie wondered how he had refrained from gasping aloud at that moment. He had turned his eyes toward the green-eyed man clad in the blue suit and spotted the small cut and bruise at the corner of his mouth. _Jim! What the devil?_

He then had to prevent himself from staring, trying to make sure the marks were real. He was all but certain. He knew makeup, and the fading bruise looked genuine. Why would Janus bother to duplicate the marks, when no one had commented on them previously, at least not in Artie's hearing? So far as Artie knew, Janus had no skills in the art of makeup anyway. Creating those marks would require a deft touch.

Then, as Compton started laying out his plans, leaning over the table, Artie looked at the blue-clad man and caught his glance. He saw the glint in the green eyes. _I've got to know how you did it, James. I know you are an incredibly talented man when it comes to getting out of tight scrapes, but this is beyond incredible._

IF Jim had had his picklock secreted in his lapel, he might have been able to reach the manacles to unlock them. But Janus, through Loveless, knew a great deal about James West and may have relayed the information about hidden weapons and tools in the clothing. If Jim _had_ the picklock overnight, chances were he would have used it, and not be a captive this morning. _And where is Janus? He must be in chains in the cellar, gagged, of course._

Artie forced himself to stop thinking about the amazing escape and to concentrate on Compton's instructions. This was doubly important now. All indications were they were going to have to allow Compton to at least attempt to pull off his robbery, and take him at the mint. Especially, Artie realized as he listened, because the plan was to pull off the raid this afternoon! Compton had not been exaggerating when he claimed all he needed was to have James West in his hands to complete his plans.

WWWWWW

Jeremy Pike looked up as the door to the director's office opened. He had told Evelyn Bushell that he was expecting both James West and Colonel Richmond, and asked her to direct them to her boss's office. The director was not in, having had to go into Denver to attend some civic function or other. No mint personnel, including Evelyn, had been apprised of the agency's plans, especially that Jeremy Pike had been out and about in various disguises. She had encountered him only here, and as far as she knew, he had just arrived in Denver yesterday.

__

That's amazing. I don't think I really believed it. "Hello, Jim," he said aloud, hoping he looked and sounded normal. The man entering the office looked exactly like Jim West, even moved like him. _Good thing Artemus was able to get that message out!_

"Jer. Is Richmond here yet?"

"I expect him at any time." Though not wearing a disguise just now, Pike had brought a satchel full of clothes and makeup just in case it was deemed wise for him to change his appearance before leaving the mint after this meeting. "How are you, Jim? You weren't at the train last night or this morning when I stopped by." _Let's see what kind of alibi they've cooked up! Somehow Janus even knows the nickname Jim often uses when addressing me._

Jim West smiled. Although he had not been able to talk to Artie, he suspected that his partner would have found away to warn the others about the duplicate who would have been here. "I spent the night chained in a cellar. Compton's cellar."

Pike blinked. "What?"

"It's me. Not Janus. I was able to switch places with him."

Jeremy Pike was cautious. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Jim."

"Alcatraz," Jim said, "Din Chang."

Pike's mouth dropped open for a long moment as he peered at the man. "You _are_ Jim West." No reason anyone but Jim West and other members of the agency would know anything about the job the two of them had been involved in that concerned the army fort and prison on the island of Alcatraz in San Francisco Bay. Gordon had been on special assignment in Washington at the time. Janus would certainly not know.

"I told you so." Jim grinned, then sobered. "We don't have a lot of time. I just left Compton's place. He's laid out some very clever plans to raid this place this very afternoon."

"Where's Artemus?"

"Still at Compton's. I'm supposed to pave the way by revealing some information I've learned that indicates the target is not the mint, but the federal bank downtown."

Jeremy grimaced. "That sounds like we'll need to split our forces."

"Yeah, to make it look good. But the bonus is I know exactly what Compton is planning here. We will have that advantage. I know where to place men, and we'd better get to it."

Before Pike could respond, the door opened again. This time it was Colonel Richmond. He looked at Jim and smiled broadly. "Well, hello, James. Good to see you again."

Jim West bit back a smile. The colonel never was a very good actor. "It really is me, colonel."

"It's Jim," Jeremy averred. "He proved it to me."

Richmond displayed confusion. "But I had word"

"That was supposed to be the case," Jim said soberly. "I was jumped last night and taken to Compton's home, held prisoner there."

Jeremy gazed at him with narrowed eyes. "Last time I talked to you, I had a notion you planned to deliberately allow yourself to be captured."

"Let's just say I didn't struggle too hard," Jim replied wryly. "I thought I knew Janus well enough from our meeting at Loveless's little ghost town to have a good idea what he would do and I was right. This morning, he came down to the cellar where I was being held to do some bragging. My arms were chained to the wall, but I had some freedom of movement, and my legs were free.

"Janus started boasting about what was going to happen, how my reputation was going to be sullied, my career ended, I would end up in prison. He was strutting around like a peacock, and in doing so, he came near enough that I was able to trip him with my feet. When he started to scramble to his feet, I kicked him in the head. Then it was a matter of using my feet and legs to pull him near enough to get the keys he had. He was already dressed like me, so I just put him in the manacles and gagged him as I had been."

Colonel Richmond was staring at his prize agent. Now he shook his head slightly. "You make it sound so simple."

Jim just shrugged. "I was telling Pike that Compton plans the raid for this afternoon, and that I, as Janus disguised as Jim West, was to report that the bank downtown was the target, not the mint."

"You're sure he doesn't suspect anything?" Pike asked. "I mean, first Artemus, now you"

"I didn't get to spend much time with him this morning, but I got the impression of a very confident man. His plan is a good one. It would probably work."

Richmond now frowned. "Perhaps we should just raid the house."

"Artemus is still in there," Jim responded quietly. "I'm the only one he allowed to leave until they head out to commit the robbery." He glanced at a clock on the wall. "We have three hours to put everything in place."

"Do you have to report back to him?" Pike asked.

"Yeah. He needs to be assured that Janus' fooled everyone. Now we need to be particularly careful because Evelyn is sitting at that front desk." She had winked at him as he passed by; she already knew about last night's capture. Jim had to wonder just how deeply she was involved. Was she more than an informant? "Don't give any hint that you know I'm not Janus or that you have any suspicions at all."

"This could get confusing," Richmond growled.

WWWWWW

Artemus knew that Compton had sent one of his men down to the cellar to check on the prisoner, but he could only wait in the parlor, feigning indifference. Suppose that man removed the gag that Artie was certain Jim had transferred to the other man? Would Janus be able to convince Artie knew the answer to that. If Janus used his own voice, the switch would be revealed.

However, about ten minutes later he saw the man who had gone downstairs strolling through the parlor toward the front porch, where several of his comrades were taking their ease until the call for action. Artemus relaxed a little. The man apparently noticed nothing amiss down there.

Alaric Compton appeared in the parlor doorway. "Mr. Gordon, I would like your assistance for a moment, please."

Artie rose from his chair and followed Compton into the dining room. The sketches were still spread out over the table. And Janus was seated on one of the chairs. Artie knew immediately that the man in the blue jacket was the doppelganger. For one thing, the absence of the bruise on his mouth. For another, the glaring hatred in the greenish eyes.

"Didn't expect to see Janus back so soon," he said casually. "Do you mind if I get a cup of coffee from the kitchen before we begin?" The rear door would probably be the best exit right now, with most of the men congregated on the front porch.

"Just remain where you are, Mr. Gordon," Compton spoke in a pleasant voice. "Tell me, were you aware that the man at our meeting awhile ago was the real James West?"

Artie's mouth dropped open. "What? He was down in the cellar wasn't he?" He hoped the confusion he was trying to display was convincing. "What happened?" Obviously that man who had ambled out onto the porch had indeed removed the gag and been convinced that the prisoner was Janus. He probably alerted Compton who instructed him to not alarm Artemus Gordon in any manner.

"Never mind what happened. Let's just say that I seriously underestimated Mr. West, despite all that I had heard about him. And perhaps I overestimated our friend Janus here. Never mind. James West will be returning to this house, unaware that we are onto his tricks. In a sense, perhaps this will work out for the best. Janus can replace him as planned, and they will be certain they are dealing with the real West."

"I see what you mean," Artie murmured. He quelled the sense of panic within him with difficulty. If Jim walked into this house, unsuspecting

"We'll simply make a few adjustments in our plans," Compton went on smoothly. "For instance, we'll hit the mint sooner than previously scheduled, before they can have all their plans in place. And of course, the scheme to leave James West behind as the scapegoat will now be altered. He will be left behind, certainly, but dead. Mr. Gordon, I will offer you first chance."

Artie's eyes widened. "First chance at what?"

"To be the one to put a bullet through the brain of James West. Considering what he did to you"

Artemus knew he was being tested. He held up a hand. "Mr. Compton, I suppose I should thank you for the opportunity, and the honor, but despite what he did, and I despise him for it, I am not a cold-blooded killer."

"Yes, I am aware of that," Compton beamed.

"Then I'll do it," Janus snarled. "With pleasure!"

"Then the honor is yours, Janus. Forbes has informed the other men that when West returns, they are to allow him inside without incident, and then to follow him in. I don't want him killed immediately. I hope to persuade him to tell us what Colonel Richmond has in mind at the mint."

__

And I have no way to warn Jim! Artemus Gordon shrugged. "I guess I'll get that cup of coffee now."

"Sounds good to me," Janus said, and followed him into the kitchen. "I'm surprised you don't want to plug West. If I was in your boots, I'd jump at the chance."

Artie picked up the heavy enameled coffeepot from the iron stove, using a folded cloth to protect his hand from the heat, and filled a cup he had taken from the cupboard, before he turned toward Janus. "As I told Mr. Compton, I'm not a killer."

"You going to be squeamish when I plug him?" Janus held out his own cup.

Artemus carefully filled that cup, keeping his eyes on what he was doing. "I don't know, to tell you the truth. Jim West is a back-stabbing rat, but he was my friend for many years. I can't forget" He smiled as Janus suddenly stiffened.

"That's my pistol against your spine, Janus," Jim West said quietly. "Don't make a sound. What's going on, Artie?"

"Well, as you can see, Janus gummed up the works. Compton is waiting for you. Janus was to have the honor of killing you." The kitchen window had given Artie a glimpse of Jim West's approach, thus he had kept Janus's attention long enough for Jim to slip in through the door.

"I saw all the boys sunning themselves on the front porch and thought it was a bit strange. Especially a couple of hours before a big job like this. So I slipped around to the back."

"What now?" Artie asked. He put the coffeepot back on the stovetop.

"Now you drop your weapon and raise your hands, _senhores_." The accented voice was filled with menace. Both Jim and Artie jerked their heads around to see the ever-stealthy Raymond at the back door. He was holding a double-barreled shotgun. And he _could_ speak!

Janus chortled as he grabbed the pistol from Jim's hand, and reached to pull the one from Artemus's holster. He then stepped back holding both guns pointing at them. "The tables are turned, gents. Raymond, get Mr. Compton. Hurry! _Pressa!_"

Raymond hesitated an instant, then obeyed, scurrying through the door that led to the other rooms of the house. Jim glanced at his partner. He was sure that Artie was as aware as he was that they needed to make a move before Compton and his half dozen men appeared. But Janus was standing too far away to attempt to knock the guns from his hands. Getting shot down was not going to help matters much.

The moment passed as Compton entered the kitchen, followed by Raymond, still holding the shotgun. Alaric Compton paused, and pure shock washed over his features. Either the servant had not explained the situation, or Compton had not believed him.

"Mr. Gordon," he said in an even tone, "am I to believe that you that this was all a hoax?"

Artemus exchanged a glance with Jim. Plainly Compton thought himself too smart to be fooled, and now he was learning he had been just that. Neither agent spoke, and Compton turned to Janus.

"Are you certain?"

Janus nodded, holding both guns steady. "I heard them, Mr. Compton. They're working together."

"Well." Compton exhaled a deep breath. "Well, this means more adjustments in the planning, doesn't it? Fortunately, I am a quick thinker. I'll turn this to my advantage. Bring them into the dining room and tie them to chairs. Raymond, summon the rest of the men."

West and Gordon had no option except to follow Compton into the dining room, with the shotgun and two six guns trained on them. Two of the other men were in the dining room, and they obeyed Compton's clipped command to fetch some rope. Within a few minutes both agents were secured to the fine, sturdy chairs, their arms pulled behind the chair back and wrists tied together. Their chairs placed side-by-side near the door to the kitchen, they were then pretty much ignored as Compton drew his men around the table to begin plotting out the changes in his plans.

"I shouldn't have put the coffeepot down," Artemus muttered.

Jim looked at him. "What?"

"If I had kept the pot in my hands, I could have thrown it at them."

"Let us not dwell on what ifs,' Artemus. We've botched this job, and now we have to figure a way out." He spoke in a low tone.

Artie was about to respond when he heard his name spoken by Compton.

"We will adhere to the plan to take Mr. Gordon with us. With Mr. West as hostage here, he will behave, I'm sure. Raymond will remain with West, with his shotgun." Compton looked pointedly at the two bound men. "I assure both of you that Raymond knows how to use that weapon, and has done so in the past. Colonel Richmond and his men will believe that Janus is the real James West because, I'm sure, they spoke to him just a short while ago. We'll follow the previous arrangement initially, because that will be what they are looking for. Here is where we will deviate"

The loud knock on the front door interrupted. Compton scowled. "Raymond, send whoever that is away."

The swarthy servant placed his shotgun against the wall, straightened his jacket, and exited toward the parlor and the front door. Compton waited silently, obviously not wanting to take the chance that any of his conversation would be overheard. Without instructions, two men pulled their weapons and pointed them toward the heads of the bound men, a warning to keep their mouths shut.

Voices drifted back through the house, one Raymond's quiet tone, the other sounding more agitated. After a couple of minutes, Raymond appeared in the dining room doorway, his dark face troubled. "_Signore_, he will not go away. He say he know you. Say Mr. Compton his friend."

"What's his name?" Compton demanded.

"No say. Old fellow, white chin" Raymond made a motion with his hand to indicate long whiskers. "He say he go get police if I not let him in."

Artemus glanced toward Jim and saw that his partner was having the same thoughts. They watched as Compton struggled to smother his anger before speaking.

"All right. All of you remain here and stay silent. Keep those two quiet." He gestured toward the agents. "I'll get rid of whoever this is and we'll continue with our plans."

No doors existed to shut off the dining room from the parlor. Only a narrow hallway that led to the stairs was between. The chairs on which James West and Artemus Gordon were bound faced toward the parlor door, but only Artemus had anything like a view into that other room. He could see Compton's shoulder as he stepped up to the front door and opened it, but could not see who was at the door.

Jim West felt the slight tug on his wrists. Then he felt the bonds drop away, and something cool was pressed into his hand. He remained still, keeping his arms behind him, did not attempt to look around. Someone had come in through the kitchen while all attention was focused on the front of the house, crept up behind their chairs, cut his bonds, and gave him a weapon, and was doing the same for Artemus.

Now that he was aware, Artemus heard the slight whisper of sound as the person behind him apparently slipped back into the kitchen area. He suspected that had he been listening, he would have noticed before. He was intensely curious as to who the person was, but sat still, waiting, clutching the small weapon that had been placed in his hand behind him after his bonds were severed. With nine armed men in the room, including Raymond, who had picked up his shotgun again, they had to wait until the right moment.

__

I hope we recognize the signal, whatever it's going to be. Someone has been pretty sharp to discern our predicament and work out this scheme. I recognize that voice at the front door

The front door slammed and Alaric Compton stalked back into the dining room, eyes blazing, face flushed, dragging a bent, white-bearded old man with him. "Senile old fool! I couldn't get rid of him and he threatened to go to the police."

"What did you do with my friend Adolph?" the old man croaked, trying to pull free of the grip on his arm. "Did you murder Adolph Compton? Who are all these fellows? Murderers too?"

Jim West bit his lip to prevent himself from grinning. Artemus Gordon was the best, but Jeremy Pike could put on quite a show when the situation demanded, especially when portraying crotchety old men. He was drawing the attention of every man in the room with his antics.

"We'll keep him here," Compton announced. "Raymond, fetch some more rope to tie him up."

"Tie me up! Tie me up!" the old codger screeched. "Now just you wait a consarned minute, fellow. I'm going to get the police! Let me go!" He twisted free of Compton's grasp, staggered a little, grabbing the nearby doorframe for support.

Abruptly he straightened, his hand going inside his coat. "Remain quiet, gentlemen. You are under arrest." The voice was younger and firmer, and the pistol in his hand gleamed. "Lay down your weapons."

Jim West and Artemus Gordon jumped to their feet, producing their weapons. "Do as he says," Artie commanded, "or you'll be caught in a crossfire."

Heads swung toward them, astonishment on every countenance. "What is this?" Compton screeched.

"It's the end of your schemes," Jim said, moving slightly to one side. He knew someone had stepped into the room behind him, but he did not want to allow his attention to waver for an instant, not with so many men to watch. None had obeyed the command to dispose of their guns, obviously waiting for an order from Compton.

"Shall I gather the weapons?"

Artemus recognized the voice. "Hold on, Ned." The positions of Compton's men would necessitate Malone getting too close to some, and perhaps turning his back on others. "All of you, line up over there by the windows." No one moved.

Jim watched Compton, who was struggling with his rage. _I almost expect to see smoke coming out his ears, he's so furious!_ If Compton decided to try to resist, so would his men, especially Raymond, who was still clutching that shotgun. Janus was fuming as well.

Artemus noticed the servant. "Raymond! Put that weapon on the floor, nice and easy."

Instead of obeying the command, the servant looked to his master. Compton smiled. "Mr. Gordon, you and your friends can't hope to win. If I order Raymond to fire, he will, and take down at least two of you. That will leave rather overwhelming odds for the remaining two."

Jeremy Pike spoke tersely. "This building is surrounded, Compton, by city police and other agents."

Compton smirked. "I do not believe that. I saw no one with you when I opened the front door."

"Did you see this agent sneak in the back way?" Jim asked sharply, nodding toward young Malone.

The smirk turned to a scowl. "That was a fluke because we were intent on our work."

Albert Lakewood was getting nervous. "Boss, maybe I should look out the window."

"No!" Compton snapped. "I refuse to yield to the ludicrous idea. Obviously these two followed West from the mint. But there was no time to arrange for further help. Mr. West, Mr. Gordon, I suggest you and your companions lay down _your_ weapons. We'll lock you in the cellar and you can remain there while we complete our task."

Artie glanced at his partner. Plainly Compton was not about to give in. _Is Jer telling the truth? We have a standoff here, and Compton is correct: Raymond's weapon will do some severe damage._

"No dice," Jim said firmly. "Don't forget, you will be the primary target of our weapons. Raymond, do you want to see your boss shot down?"

The servant's dark eyes widened, but Compton looked at him and spoke sharply. "Don't let him bluff you, Raymond. You obey my orders. _Compreenda?_"

Raymond hesitated only an instant before nodding. "_Sim, mestre._"

Ned Malone spoke then. "Mr. West, suppose I go outside and ask Colonel Richmond to have the men make noise to indicate their numbers and positions."

Jim looked at the young man, then at Artie who, he saw, was as surprised as he was. He had believed that Jeremy's claim was a bluff, thinking as Compton had, that no time had been available to round up a force. "Do that, Ned. Give me your gun."

"No!"

Compton's yell was filled with thunderous fury. He did not wait for his servant to blast with the shotgun, but reached over the grab it himself. At that moment, other men acted, the one nearest to Jeremy launching himself at that agent. Another joined, their weight forcing Pike to the floor.

"Stop!" Jim shouted, but it was too late. The other men were pulling their guns. Compton had the shotgun. The three agents near the kitchen door dropped to the floor and began firing back. The room was filled with the thunder and fire of the reports, the acrid odor of gunpowder soon saturating the air.

Artemus saw that Jeremy was getting the worst of his tussle with the two men, one of whom was trying to turn his pistol toward Pike. To fire on them would risk hitting the agent. Being closest, Artie tipped a heavy chair over and maneuvered himself along the floor, pulling the chair along with him, using the seat at some cover. Bullets splintered the wood and he felt the stings on his hand and face.

But he reached the three wrestling on the floor, and used his pistol butt to club one over the head. With the odds evened, Pike jumped to his feet and slammed a hard right fist into his opponent's midsection, following it with a left that sent the man staggering backwards. He started to look for his own gun that had fallen in the fray and at that moment a bullet struck him, spinning him backwards toward the parlor door.

It all ended suddenly then as men arrived at both the back and front doors, rifles and pistols ready, Colonel Richmond at the lead, with a gun in his hand and shouting commands to surrender. Seeing that indeed they were outnumbered, the few men left standing quickly yielded.

Artemus jumped to his feet. He saw Alaric Compton sprawled on the floor, blood covering his chest, his eyes sightlessly open. Raymond sat beside him, also bloodied, weeping and calling his master's name, the shotgun on the floor and forgotten. Artie grabbed that weapon, then stepped over Compton to join two uniformed policemen who were kneeling beside Jeremy Pike's unconscious form.

One of the officers looked up. "Better get him to a doctor fast."

"Can you get a wagon?" Artie asked.

"We've got one outside. Come on, Jeff. Take his legs."

"How is he?" Jim asked, coming over. The other agents, including Janet Lewis who had arrived when things quieted down, had the situation in hand.

"Not sure," Artie replied somberly. "Looks like a chest wound."

Jim glanced around and found that young Malone had followed him into the parlor, his face ashen. "Ned, go with Pike. Report back as soon as you know his condition."

Malone did not exactly display relief, but he acquiesced quickly. This was probably his first action, Jim reflected. He knew that Malone had been in the service only a short while and had usually been delegated auxiliary duties, such as acting as a contact.

"Is that Compton?" Richmond asked, motioning toward the well-dressed corpse.

"That's him," Artemus confirmed. "All his grand plans, and this is what it brought him."

"Sad case," the colonel said, shaking his head. "Apparently he came from a well-to-do and socially prominent New England family. But he won't be committing any more robberies and planning to take over the throne of England." He looked around. "And that's Janus," he said softly, seeing the man in the blue suit sprawled on his back, a bloody wound in his forehead. What an incredible sensation to see what appeared to be his best agent laying there dead, and all the while still standing alongside him.

Artemus saw the expression on his superior's face and knew the colonel's feelings were mirroring his own. Seeing "Jim West" cold and dead was not something he ever wanted to see. He prevented himself from reaching out and touching his partner just to prove to himself that Jim West indeed was alive and breathing.

"Colonel," Jim asked, "how the devil did you get here so quickly?"

"Credit Pike, Malone, and Miss Lewis. When you left the mint, Pike had the idea to follow you, in disguise, something he threw together rather quickly. You weren't aware that the other agents were in the mint at the same time. They had been told to remain out of sight, because we believed that Janus would be the one arriving. Pike had Malone trail after him, and Miss Lewis followed Malone. Pike got close enough to the house apparently to see that you two were in difficulty. He sent Miss Lewis back to the mint, and apparently he and Malone set about disrupting things here. I gathered all the men that we were pulling together to guard the mint as well as to make a show at the bank, and here we are."

"Malone did a very courageous thing," Jim commented, "sneaking in virtually under Compton's nose to cut our ropes and give us weapons."

"The word Miss Lewis brought was that you two were prisoners, and we knew that you could become hostages. We acted as fast as we could–taking Evelyn Bushell into custody first–but in truth had just arrived when we heard the gunfire inside and decided to move in."

Jim looked at Artie, who shook his head and said, "So Jer was at least partially bluffing. Bought a little time as Compton had to digest the information and the possible threat."

With Richmond's permission, Jim and Artie left the house, learning from one of the police officers the name and address of the nearest physician. Taking horses from the stable, they rode quickly to that doctor's house. Malone was sitting in the front room and he jumped to his feet.

"I haven't heard anything yet."

"That's okay, Ned. We just thought we'd wait with you," Artemus smiled, aware that the young man was worried that they thought he was shirking his duty.

The doctor, a robust middle-aged man, emerged from another room then, drying his hands with a towel. "Gentlemen? Your friend is going to be all right, providing he gets proper rest and care. The bullet did not damage any important organs."

"Can we see him?" Jim asked.

"He's asleep, and is likely to be so for another twelve hours. I gave him a strong sedative. He's in considerable pain, as you might guess. Come back tomorrow. You, why don't you sit down and let me look at your face."

Artemus was startled to realize the doctor meant him. He put a hand to his face and felt the sticky, drying blood. "You do look like you're in war paint," Jim commented with a smile.

"Splinters from that blamed chair," Artie muttered, sitting down as the doctor stepped back into his examining room to bring out a tray containing antiseptic and plasters. Then he thought of something. "Jim, if Lily hears about the shooting"

Jim West nodded. "I'll go to her hotel to reassure her. Meet us there."

As Jim departed, Artemus looked at the young agent still in the room. "Ned, you did a great job today. Sneaking in like that to cut our ropes was very brave."

"I was scared to death."

"That's what makes an even more courageous feat. If you had not freed us, what Jeremy Pike did would have been useless."

Ned Malone grinned. "I just asked myself, if I was the one tied up in there, would Artemus Gordon and Jim West help me? The answer was yes, so I just did it."

"There you go," the doctor said, sticking a piece of plaster over the deepest of the cuts on Artemus's face. "Be careful shaving for a few days."

"Thank you, doctor." Artie got to his feet. "I'm sure Colonel Richmond, the head of our agency, will be along to see about Mr. Pike. Discuss your bill with him."

The physician chuckled. "Don't worry, I will."

"Ned, do you want to come back to Miss Fortune's hotel with me? I think we're due to have a little celebration."

Now the young man's face became rosy. "Well, I told Janet–Miss Lewis–I'd walk her back to our boarding house."

"Then by all means, keep your word. But why don't you both join us for supper? I'll send word where to meet us."

WWWWWW

"You kept your promise, Jim."

Jim West smiled. "I always try to, Lily. This one was touch and go, and I'll be honest. If it had not been for Jeremy and a few others, I might have ended up reneging."

Lily Fortune reached out and took both his hands in hers. "Artemus is so lucky to have a friend like you, Jim."

"I'm the lucky one. Artie has been there for me more times than I can count. I'm just glad that this turned out all right. Compton was a smart man. His plan for robbing the mint might have worked if Artemus hadn't risked his neck by joining the gang."

Lily shook her head. "Now we have to get the story set straight in the newspapers!"

Jim chuckled. "Well, when they see the three of us together, I think they may begin to get an inkling."

Releasing his hands, Lily threw her arms around his neck. "I love you, Jim. I love you for being Artemus's friend, and my friend."

"Hey! Isn't this where I came in?"

Both turned to see the angry-faced man in the doorway. "Artemus" Lily began, taking a step away from Jim West, startled by his expression.

But Jim West knew his partner. He folded his arms across his chest. "Let's just see how long he can keep it up without laughing, Lily."

Artemus Gordon grinned. "Can never put one by you, James. Now, Miss Fortune, have you missed me these last few days as much as I missed you?"

Jim West politely turned and gazed out the window.

THE END


End file.
